Anya Hoods
by Lettizz
Summary: Summary: Ryan Murphy wanted another character on the show. A 'I don't care what you think', tough girl. Who better than Anya Hoods?Follow her journey through with Darren. RPF. Warning: Although based on real people, the story and everything that happens in it, is fictional. Slightly AU, I'm writing this with the intention there was a Season 4, with the same cast.
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Hey Guys,

I know it's been a while since I uploaded, and you're probably disappointed in me for updating my stories, which I _am _working on! It's just the chapters are a lot longer.

I'm back with another Glee story, except this time, it's an RPF.

I just want to warn you, anything that happens in my story is _all _fiction, and how I portray people is _also _fiction. It may not necessarily be true, it's just how I see it!

I'm sure Lea Michele is an _amazing, _funny person in real life- but in my story, she's pretty much a stroppy, bad tempered bitc- *ahem* All I'm saying is, _don't _get offended by what I write, it's based on fact, or anything.

With that, I leave you to enjoy my story.

And I don't want to be a nag, and ask you for reviews, because I'm sure it's annoying enough, with everyone else.

Have fun reading, and let me know if there's anything you want me to add, or I need to improve on.

Constructive criticism welcomed!

~Lettizz


	2. An unwanted disturbance

**Chapter 1: An Unwanted Disturbance, and a **_**Lot **_**of Alcohol**

I heard the murmur of voices behind the door. I opened the door. Then they saw me. Ryan's jaw dropped. His facial expression was frozen.

"I hope I'm not late, Ryan." I said sweetly. I dropped into the nearest chair. "I do hate being late on a first day."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I wasn't too surprised when I saw the email waiting for me from Ryan in my inbox. Ryan and I were what you might call 'old friends.' But really the only connection we had, was the fact we went to the same college. We never talked. Ryan was a skinny, lanky kid with braces and a mop of greasy hair.

_And now look at him, _I thought bitterly. I wasn't going to lie, I didn't like the man. I'll admit I'm a little jealous. Now, he's a famous producer of an American show, with more money than he can handle. As for me? I live in a cramped apartment on the edges of Washington.

The email bubbled enthusiasm, like Ryan was so _happy _to 'finally' find me. I snorted. No way he was actually happy. If I knew Ryan, I knew whenever he found an old friend, it was because he wanted something.

_Hi, Anya!_

_So great to have found you after all these years. I was wondering if you could do me a favour? I'm looking for a new character on the show. I remember how great you were in our school play- Alice in Wonderland, wasn't it? Drop me a line if you're willing to take part. _

_Regards,_

_Ryan Murphy. _

Typical of Ryan to make a reference to one of our school plays. And to smoothly lie. Our college performances were disasters. Still, I wasn't willing to miss out on an opportunity to strut my stuff. Acting and singing were my life. If I couldn't do anything else, I didn't want to. Unfortunately, my career life wasn't going so great. I'd had a few auditions for small parts, but no luck. I'd been rejected.

Now, here was Ryan, offering me a part on a _huge _show, no strings attached. Well, knowing Ryan, I was pretty sure there _were _strings attached. But on an impulsive feeling, I bought a plane ticket one-way to California, headed directly for Los Angeles.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

That brought me to where I was now. In the Paramount Studios, the department where they filmed all the school scenes for Glee.

I arrived at the reception, (earning myself an ogle from the perky blonde behind the counter) and she pointed me in the direction of the conference room, where apparently the cast were running through their script.

"_Anya,_" Ryan forced a smile. "How..._pleasant_."

"Sorry I'm late, Ryan," I said breezily. "Flights were late."

"Your...outfit?" His eyes ran over me.

I inwardly grinned. "Sorry, had to pull something on. I was running late, so I pulled this on-" I gestured to the tight, black lycra clingy catsuit I was wearing, paired with two-inch laced boots.

"I'd tell you to take a seat, but I guess you already have."

"Don't mind me, Ryan," I winked at him. "I won't say a word."

I could see him struggling to glower at me from his seat, right at the head of the table.

People's eyes swivelled from Ryan, to me.

"Right." He cleared his throat, but I could see in his eyes blazing anger. "Let's carry on, then, from that little..._distraction._"

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

To my disappointment, it was a very dull meeting. I liked action, I liked conflict. It seemed people were treading eggshells around Ryan.

As people were filing out of the meeting, I got a glimpse of the cast. A couple of pretty blondes, a short brunette who looked like she might be difficult to work with, on the whole, unnaturally gorgeous people. I caught the eye of a few people.

Ryan gave me a brief nod on the way out.

I didn't expect more from the man who took more than gave.

"Anya, right?"

I turned, to see a woman with dark hair, smiling at me.

I decided she was friendly enough to talk to. "Yep. And you are...?"  
"Jenna," she supplied me. "I'm Jenna Ushkowitz. But my friends call me Jen."

I studied her, trying to find out whether she considered me a friend or a threat. But it was _far _too early to tell, and I had just turned up in a clingy catsuit on my first day.

"So where are _we_ going now?" I asked her, following her through the door.

Her eyes widened with surprise. "Don't you know? Oh, right, first day. Sorry. After serious 'meetings' and all that, we normally go to the hotel, where we're staying."

I nodded my head. Ryan had mentioned that in an email: _You'll be staying in Fiachra hotel. Along with the rest of the cast._

He also mentioned all filming would be taking place in the Paramount studios.

"But tonight is a special occasion," Jenna grinned at me. "It's Ryan's birthday."

I tried to hide my shock. I realised I literally knew _nothing _about Ryan and what was going to happen. I dropped my luggage off at the Fiachra hotel, under the name _Murphy, _(Ryan booked a room for me) and headed straight here. But apart from the hotel and my accommodation, that was all I knew.

I gestured for Jenna to continue.

"-_And _Ryan's throwing this huge party. At a club."

"I guess we'd better head back to the hotel and choose something to wear, then," I gave her a quick smile.

"Well, that's where _everyone's _going, so I see no other choice." Jenna explained it like it was obvious.

"Let's go."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I found out Jenna was overall, a genuinely kind, friendly person. I didn't come to the show expecting everyone to be horrible people, but I'd had experiences in the past with backstabbing from people I _thought _were 'friends.' Since then, I'd kept my guard up when meeting people.

But I couldn't force myself not to laugh when I was chatting to Jenna. Turned out, conveniently, our hotel rooms were right next door.

I chose to wear a short, black dress cut in on the side with black pumps. After my catsuit outfit, I didn't want to disappoint. But I didn't want to wear too little. I didn't want to be labelled 'slut' as a first impression.

As it turned out, there _were _actresses who wore less than me.

"But that's just Heather," Jenna told me, after I saw a blonde walk out of the hotel doors, wearing a pink bikini top and ripped shorts.

"But she's _actually _got the figure for it." Jenna wistfully sighed.

I just met Jenna, but I already didn't want to see her upset. I already felt protective of her.

"Hey," I nudged her. "Don't think that way. I'm sure this _bar invitation _was just an excuse to talk to you."

"Really?" She looked so hopeful. Earlier on, she confided in me she had a crush on Ryan. I didn't think it was possible for another human to like Ryan in that way, he was just such a soulless dick. But I didn't tell Jenna that.

"Trust me on this."  
She hooked arms with me, and we walked out of the hotel, together.

"I didn't think you'd be like this, Anya," she confided in me as we were walking to the club.

I was intrigued. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged, her dark waves bouncing over her shoulders. "You seemed so... intimidating. And when you arrived in that catsuit... I think everyone was pretty shocked."

I stifled a laugh. "Hey, I'm only mean and intimidating to people who

deserve it." _Like Ryan, _I thought.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The atmosphere in the club was buzzing. 9:00, and I could already smell the sweat of people.

Jenna flashed an entry pass to the bouncer, and he nodded us through.

I hadn't been to many clubs. In all honesty, I was a little shy. But I didn't let it show.

Lights were flashing, revealing the heavy layer of smoke that hung in the air. Not to my surprise, the club was practically _spilling _with people. People grinding into each other, people all over each other, bodies twisting and dancing.

The music was blaring too loudly for me to hear Jenna's voice. Instead, I took her hand, and led her over to the drinks bar.

"Need a drink?" I shouted in her ear.

"Love one!" She raised her voice over the sound of whooping in the club.

I ordered a beer for me, and a smurf-on-ice for Jenna. Her drink came in an elegant wine glass, topped with a cherry and a miniature umbrella.

Jenna raised an eyebrow at me, while she sipped daintily her glass, I took a full swig from my beer.

I turned away from her, to the scene of a stuffed dance floor, to realise I knew no-one else to talk to. I suddenly felt a pang of loneliness.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

My night didn't just 'stop' because I knew no-one. I followed Jenna over to the table of Glee clubbers, where Ryan was avidly having a discussion with Cory over politics.

Everyone else looked thoroughly bored.

"Hey, guys, this is Anya."

They perked up at my appearance.

A guy with shaved head and faint stubble leaned towards me, with a smile. "You're the girl who came in the catsuit, right?"

"Got that right," I said, with a hint of flirtation to my voice.

"It was _brilliant_!" He lowered his voice, signalling for me to come closer. I obliged. "Ryan's face was pure comedy," he whispered to me. "Never seen him that shocked. You sticking around?"  
"I'll be here for a while."

"I'm Mark, by the way. And this is Lea, Amber, Chris and Darren."

The four were squeezed up on the plush red sofa seats. Lea gave me a glittering smile, Amber nods at me, Chris gave me a brief, cautious, _hello _smile. And Darren.

What did I want to say about Darren?

I've been _all _around the states of America, flying to auditions I knew I wasn't going to pass.

But Darren was different to all the men I've met.

I'll say it: Darren was the sexiest man I'd ever met.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I don't lie when it comes to my opinion on people. I'm blunt and honest. So, although I admitted Darren was good-looking, it _didn't mean _I was attracted to him.

He had dark, _wild _curly hair. My eyes traced his face, along his jaw line to where early stubble was beginning to grow. He had amber eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a soft curve of pink lips.

It didn't help that he was watching me intently the whole time.

Mark stood up, and announced he was bored. Ryan shot him a look, but continued talking to Cory.

"I think we need to liven things up a bit!" Mark hollered at the top of his voice.

Lea excused herself to the bathroom, and Amber muttered an apology, and said she needed it to.

"What about you, Darren?"

Darren gave me a wicked smile. "I'm in if you're in, Mark."

"Yes!" Mark punched the air in triumph. If I didn't know better, I'd say Mark was a little drunk, anyway. I faintly smelt alcohol on his breath.

"Any good party needs alcohol! C'mon," Mark tugged at my arm, and Darren followed close behind.

"I'm warning you now," he whispered into my ear. "Things are going to get a _little _crazy. Mark's known for his wild stunts."

The sudden sound of music made me jump, but I leaned back into Darren, and yelled, "We all need a break from time to time, right?!"

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I remembered bits and pieces of the evening from then on.

I remember Mark handing me a shot of vodka, and me downing it in one go. Darren just raised his eyebrows, while Mark ordered another shot.

I hadn't drunk this much in a while. But the more I drunk, the giddier I felt, until, I was practically floating sky-high with excitement.

"You know, Anya, you're alright." Mark told me, slurring his words.

I giggled. "Thanks, Mark, you're not so bad yourself."

Darren, compared to the rest of us, got _wrecked. _Halfway through the night, when he'd drained about five bottles of beer, he ripped off his shirt, and started dancing on the bar counter. People just cheered him on, and threw money.

"W-Whoo! G-Go Darren!" Mark whooped, before his eyes rolled back and he passed out on the floor. I just couldn't stop laughing, and was practically _dying _when Darren hopped off the counter, tugged on his shirt and invited me to dance.

There's a gap in my memory, and then I remember dancing _really _close to Darren. So close I remember feeling his warm breath on my neck, and grinding into him, clutching onto his loose shirt.

I remember his whine when I nibbled on his earlobe, my head near his neck.

I remember feeling his lips on mine, swiping my bottom lip with his tongue.

But what _really _surprised me, was when I woke up the next morning, lying next to him in _his _bed, in _his _hotel room.

This couldn't be a good first day.


	3. A baggy top, and contracts

**Chapter 2: A baggy top, and contracts**

I woke up tangled in bed sheets. It was the first undisturbed night I'd had in years. And I'd woken up on a _very _soft, warm bed.

Then I realised there was someone lying next to me, in my bed. Except it wasn't _my _bed.

Judging by the abs pressed up against me, it wasn't a man. And the arm snaked around my waist, he wasn't a stranger.

I had to do this slowly- and _subtly. _I arched my back, and heard a grunt.

Wait.

I recognised his voice.

Oh God.

I sat up suddenly, and my head whipped to the man next to me.

It was Darren.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I probably wasn't making a good first impression on Ryan. First I show up in a catsuit, _then _I get drunk at a party of his, and end up in bed with one of his employees.

Darren stirred slightly, his mouth twitching into a smile. I thought I heard him say "_Anya,_" but I prayed it was just in his dream absorbed state.

All the alcohol I had from last night started to kick in, and my heart began throbbing. Hard. Sharp, stabbing pains in my head, over and _over-_

"Anya?"

Great. He'd woken up.

He was rubbing his eyes sleepily, and sat up, right next to me. Our hips were touching, but I chose to ignore it.

"W-What _did we do_ last night?" He groaned. I guess _his _hangover started to kick in, too.

He noticed my stiff, rigid position, purposely ignoring him.

"Anya?"

"I-I'm fine. I'll be fine. It's just, you know, I barely know you, and _now _I'm in the same bed as you-"

He understood, and slid out of bed. "Sorry," he apologised, raising his hands. "I had a lot to drink, and I'm pretty sure you did, too."

"Do you remember _anything, _Darren?"

"Parts. I remember Mark bringing out this _huge _keg of beer, and I think you drunk from it. With your mouth."

"_Perfect,_" I moaned, hiding my face in my hands. "You barely know me, and already you think I'm a fool."

"Hey." His voice softened, became gentler. "I don't think you're an idiot."

I peeked up, and saw him, one hand on my shoulder, amber eyes boring into mine.  
"If it helps, Naya licked whipped cream off Heather," he joked. "We _all _had a lot to drink. Don't blame yourself. I-I'm going to have a shower, now. You can use it after, if you want?" He offered. I gave him a smile, and watched as he struggled to stay upright. He made it all the way to the bathroom, before I heard a loud crash.

"Darren, you OK?"

"I'm fine! Everything's fine!"

I hid a smirk. Of all the people I _know, _and barely know, it had to be Darren.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I took Darren's absence as an opportunity to study his hotel room. Ryan told me they'd been staying for a few weeks, now, so it would have given them some time to settle into their rooms. He didn't have many possessions. By possessions, I mean personal stuff. Family photos, and certificates. I have a whole soppy cork board of shots of me and my friends I took, from college. Well. They _were _my friends. But since college, people changed. We moved further away from each other, and all of a sudden, even though we _promised _to keep in touch, we stop talking. And one night, they show up at your doorway expecting you to do them a favour.

_All they ever wanted from me, _I thought bitterly. _Favours._

But Darren had a _ton _of stuff. I guess being famous on a TV show paid off. He probably had more clothes than I did, judging by the different coloured shirts he had slung over a chair, and the massive wardrobe. Plus the dresser in the corner of the cream walls, carrying the weight of all his things. His florescent pink glasses that made my eyes ache if I stared too long at, and a few beaded bracelets.

In a corner, lay a guitar, leant against the wall. I could tell it was probably valuable to him, still shining of polished wood. I heard the splash of water turn on, and slipped out of his bed over to the guitar. I loved music. It was all I ever thought of, all I ever did. Music was my life.

I couldn't resist strumming lightly against the guitar strings with my fingers, running a hand down the smooth surface.

"You like guitars, huh?"

I jumped, to face Darren. I hated him, for looking so comfortably gorgeous in just a green top, slung on with jeans. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't angry. He had an...inquisitive look on his face, like he was genuinely interested to hear what I had to say.

"Like is one word. C-Can I use the shower?"

He nodded, and I rushed past him, into the bathroom. I locked the door.

I didn't feel like facing Darren. His guitar brought too many painful memories back.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The shower was like a relief, a massage to my sore muscles. I switched the shower on, and just stood there, letting the water run down my back. I had been so tense the past few weeks, and the hot shower was relaxing my knotted muscles.

I shower quickly.

I was in and out of the shower in two minutes, but I spent the next five wondering _how _awkward it would be to face Darren right now.

There was a knock on the door.

"Anya? You going to be long in there?"

"No!" I called. "I'm coming out now."

I tightened the knot on the towel wrapped _securely _around my body, and grabbed the hair towel.

The look on Darren's face was priceless.

"O-Oh. I didn't think, I didn't realise you'd be in a towel, sorry," he stammered. A blush rose on his cheeks. He turned away, his back to me. "Sorry, I'll look away."

I was unimpressed. "Uh, Darren? We've spent a night together, you don't need to be like that."

"O-Okay." He turned back, but still looked crimson. _I really must be rocking the towel outfit, huh? _I thought, with a hidden smile.

"Do you have any clothes?" I walked towards his wardrobe, and started rummaging through his clothes.

"Wait, what?"

I rolled my eyes, and put a hand on my hip as I explained to him as slowly as I could. "I...don't...have...any...clothes. They're all in _my _hotel room."

"Oh, right." He was majorly embarrassed, and kept glancing at the floor.

"This'll have to do." I picked out a simple striped short-sleeved top, that I had to admit, was my favourite. "I'll keep my jeans on," I told him, before he opened his mouth. My jeans were crumpled, and didn't look their best, but I wasn't about to go asking Darren for _his _trousers. The top was enough.

"OK, _now _you can look away."

I slipped on my pants and jeans under the towel, and was still wearing my towel with my jeans on, when I realised- _how was I going to get my bra on?_

"I've got to go to the bathroom for this, sorry." It took me a nanosecond to clip my bra on, but I wanted to spend some time making myself look _eligible. _His top was _amazingly _soft, and actually didn't look that bad on me, I decided, admiring myself in the mirror. It was baggy on me, but accentuated my curves in the right places.

I searched through his glass cupboard above the sink, found some deodorant, which I _bathed _in, gave my hair a run through with my fingers, and rinsed my mouth with mouthwash. I was pretty confident alcohol was on my breath.

The girl in the mirror looked nothing like me.

My eyeliner was smudged, I wiped off my lipstick, and I looked...shy. Wide-eyed and innocent. Fortunately, my auburn hair was growing in curls down my shoulders, the way I liked. With a tissue and expertise, I managed to _re_-use the eyeliner I wore last night, smudging it in the corners of my brown eyes.

I took five minutes, but I wasn't about to go apologising to Darren.

"So where are we headed to now?" I asked him, tugging on my boots.

"Just downstairs, to the hotel dining room. It's where we have breakfast."

"Better not keep Ryan waiting." I winked at him, and couldn't shake the feeling his eyes were on me the whole time we were walking downstairs.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The little 'dining room' Darren made it seem very modest, turned out to be a _colossal _room, stretching for miles. It certainly seemed that way, anyway. The _Fiachra _hotel didn't do things small, I'd learnt. The dining room, the walls covered in rich, deep red wallpaper, was mainly filled with tables cloaked in white tablecloths, laid with silver cutlery. In the centre of the room, were tables _piled _with plates of food, from where guests could serve themselves. I even spotted a salad bar.

We were met by a very, _very _hung-over cast. Apparently Ryan

refused to exit his room. _So the rich sod gets to laze in his bed all day, while he forces the rest of us to work, _I thought angrily, casting a glance over the miserable bunch. Few people were eating.

But somehow Amber managed to eat four slices of toast, two fried eggs and bacon.

"When a girl's gotta eat, a girl's gotta eat!" She protested, when she saw the rest of us gaping at her plate. I laughed. Amber was nothing like I expected- instead of a drama queen, she was _hilarious, _and had been so warm and welcoming to me, I couldn't refuse her company.

She definitely showed me last night, though, she was 100% diva, through and through.

Jenna, had been quiet. Her hangover proved the worst. She didn't necessarily drink the most, but being the least used to alcohol, she certainly took the hardest hit.

"Jen, you OK?" I asked, sliding into the seat next to me. Darren sat opposite of me. I couldn't look at him yet, without thinking what we _could _have done last night.

"Do hangovers normally hurt this much?"

I was at a loss for words what to say, when thankfully, Mark saved me.

"Please. What we did last night? _Nothing _compared to the good ol' days of Salling in his college years. In one night, me and my roommates downed two kegs, far few number of beers and shots of vodka. You'll survive, believe me."

Jenna managed a weak smile.

"That can't be good for your bladder," Darren said. He looked flabbergasted.

"Hey." Mark pointed a fork at Darren, still covered in eggy mush. "I've seen what you can do, Criss. Don't lecture _me._" He narrowed his eyes, but we knew it was in banter. I'd seen the two in TV interviews, they were like brothers. _Or drinking buddies._

I was about to say something, before I spotted _Ian Brennan, _one of the writers of Glee.

The poor man looked tired. I was told he _hadn't _been invited to Ryan's party, on account of the work he had to catch up with. Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, I felt sorry for him. I had the feeling Ryan wasn't a _pleasant _man to work with. Hell, I went with him to college. I knew what a nightmare he could be.

Ian spotted us, and ambled over. He immediately zoned in on me.

"You must be the lovely Anya," he bowed, and kissed my hand. It was a cheesy gesture, considering we were in the 21st century, but I gave him a faint smile.

"I've heard about you. Ryan told me you were going to join the cast. We've all been awaiting your arrival eagerly."

"Thank you." It was all I could say.

"Ryan instructed me to explain to you what's going to happen. If you'll follow me?" He gave me a toothy grin, and I felt a little sick. But I couldn't deny one of the writers of Glee, an important man.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

We came to a room on the outreaches of the hotel, the furthest guests could go. It was an old, forgotten relaxing room. The cobwebs that hung in the corner told me it hadn't been visited, in years.

Ian had been carrying a folder, which he spread out along a coffee table. There were more sheets than I could imagine, neatly labelled and printed.

"This is your contract." He handed me thick sheets, stapled together. "All you have to do is sign," he croaked, a glimmer in his eyes I didn't like.

I shuffled through the papers. Nothing looked serious, just an average contract. Ian handed me a pen between shaking fingers. I scribbled down my signature.

Ian gave me a crooked smile. "We start filming in two weeks. You play a small part, nothing big. Just another Cheerio, called Hayley. Your lines I've highlighted in this script. Two weeks to learn it. The filming set is just down the road. You know where that is, right?"

I nodded. I had _no _idea, but I hoped I could get the help of one of my cast-mates.

Ian's gaze shifted to the door, and his eyes glazed over.

"I-I'd better leave." I nervously scraped my chair back, and walked out of the door, leaving probably a half-conscious Ian behind me.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

When I returned, most people had their appetites back and Mark was piling his plate with fried food, making me shudder. I stayed away from _any _fried food.

It was one of the woman who noticed my top first. The typical TV gorgeous, with cinnamon skin, long hair, and dark lashes. "What's with the top?" She asked me, signalling to Blaine's top.

"Er..." I stuttered.

"Excuse _Naya._" Jenna said, giving a pointed look towards the woman, who I now knew was called Naya.

"She's a little forward."

I gave her a thankful look.

"But... I have to ask. Where did you get the top? It doesn't look like yours. In fact... it looks like a _man's _top."

There was a silent pause in the room.

"Anya...which guy?" Amber asked, with a waggling of eyebrows.

"Guys...Shut up! I just...Didn't have any clothes, OK? Forget about it." I dropped into the seat next to Jenna.

"Someone's touchy," Lea commented, spreading butter on her toast.

I resisted the urge to glare at her.

Darren cleared his throat.

"What's the schedule for today?" I asked for Jenna.

"Dance rehearsals," she groaned. "For _all of us, _Amber."

Amber ignored her.

Chatting to the cast was so easy. They knew each other so well, they were comfortable and relaxed around each other.

I got to know a few more people, Naya, a jokey but slightly nosey girl. She was sweet, but I learnt she _loved _gossip. When I heard the word gossip, I instantly looked at Darren, who avoided my gaze. He must have been thinking the same thing, too.

Dianna, the sweetest, kindest person I'd ever met.

And Kevin, who, ironically, turned out to be the best dancer, but was stuck in a wheelchair, playing a handicapped person.

Breakfast went by fast, and we were forced by our schedule to get to the dance studios down the road, as quickly as possible.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I found out dancing was hard. I found out because I'd just been introduced, I didn't have to vigorously work to perfect the routine, like the rest of the cast.

So I just sat back and watched as the cast were put through their moves. Training was tough, and Jenna stopped for a sneaky break, to talk to me, before the dancing instructor caught her and snapped at Jenna to get back.

The whole cast looked like a wreck, especially Darren who was covered in sweat and dancing, basically looking like a hot mess... _What am I doing? _My attention snapped back from Darren. _I don't like him. I don't like anyone... At least, not in that way. _

That's what I thought.


	4. Need

**Chapter 3: Need**

Two weeks went by faster than expected. With Mark's cheesy jokes, Chris's sarcastic comments, and killing time in the hotel lounge playing Mario Kart; made it easier.

Thursday night, and I was nervously preparing for the next day, the first day of filming Season 4. I had more lines than I expected, but not too many that it pushed my limits. I had a bad memory.

I tied my hair up in a high ponytail, and threw on my slacks. It made me feel comfortable, and almost at home.

I was leaning against my bed, muttering my lines with my eyes shut when there was a thud at my door.

I swung it open to face a very intoxicated Darren.

"Anya, I have something to confess. I'm falling for you," he slurred. "I can't stop thinking about you, and everything you do." He took a shaky step forward, backing me up. "Anya, please-" his voice broke. "I can't say anymore, I have to show you. Show you how I feel about you." I was still processing this information when he kissed me.

It started gentle, held-back. My hand slid up his neck to get tangled in his hair, while his arms slipped around me. Then the kiss got needier, hungrier, more passionate. Our mouths fought for dominance. I pulled him closer, wanting more of him, just wanting... something. I hadn't been that close to someone in a while, and with Darren here, showing up at my doorstep, drunk but _very _gorgeous... Just to feel someone, warm, up against me... And Darren felt right. He felt good. God, he was even a good kisser.

But then the nagging voice at the back of my head kicked in, as soon as I had pushed off his blazer, and unbuttoned his shirt. He had me up against the wall, pressing against me.

_He's drunk, what do you expect? They have to be drunk to want to be near __**you,**_the voice taunted me. I felt sick. It was right, it was-

"Darren," I breathed against his mouth.

"Mmm-hmm?" He murmured in response.

"I-I can't do this. I thought I can, and I can't. You have to leave." I pushed him away firmly.

He was drunk and I was taking advantage of that. It wasn't fair to him.

"But, Anya-" he looked at me with desperate eyes. "I need you. I _want _you."

"You're drunk." I choked back a sob. "I want you out. GET OUT!"

My scream startled him, and he grabbed his blazer and ran out. I slammed the door behind him, and fell against the door, slid down to the floor, and cried until I couldn't breathe.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

That night, my insides felt raw. _I _felt raw. I felt cheated, like Darren had used my feelings for him to trick me. But I knew it wasn't true. Meanwhile, the voice in my head was whispering to me, about how worthless and useless I was, no-one cared about me. It made me feel ugly, worthless... fat.

That night, I stuck two fingers down my throat and retched. Retched until I felt right again.

**A/N: I'm not sure how I made this chapter a bit angsty, I just went with the flow of the story and ending up here. It's a short chapter, I know, but I decided to split one long chapter into two.**

**And don't worry, things get better from here for Anya.**


	5. On set

**Chapter 4: On Set**

My alarm buzzed me awake at 6. The memory of last night came back, slowly seeped back in. _Darren, kissing him... His mouth tasted of coffee... I threw up. _I hoped it didn't make me bulimic. I was sad, I was depressed... It didn't mean anything, right? I tried to ignore it. I had gotten into a routine, the past couple of years. Wake up early, go to sleep late. It meant I had under-eye circles, but nothing concealer couldn't hide.

I threw on some clothes, I knew they'd have my cheerio costume waiting for me, in the clothes and makeup department. I didn't bother with makeup, I never did.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I met Jenna, at the hotel reception, she patted my arm, wished me luck and handed me a script.

"Just the script if you want a quick skim through."

"Thanks." I took the script and stashed it in my shoulder bag.

Jenna ran an expert eye over my chosen outfit and tutted. "You could have chosen something a little more..._chique, _for your first day at filming."

"What's wrong with it?" I glanced down at my worn pair of shorts, strappy vest and sandals. Jenna rolled her eyes.

"It's _boiling _outside, and you want me to wear a suit? No way." I woke up with rays of sun shining in my face. I checked the weather on the small flat screen in my hotel, and found temperatures would be hitting thirty degrees. I loved hot weather. It gave me an excuse to wear shorts, showing off my legs. I didn't want to brag, but my legs were pretty slim and tanned.

Jenna was wearing a long, frilly purple sundress down to her ankles from some shop I'd never heard of. It was apparently _boutique _material.

"We're filming episode one of season one, right?" I checked with her, flipping through the script.

"What other episode?" She snorted.

"Well... I'm in the first scene!" My stomach lurched. I hoped I had time before I came on, maybe a couple of scenes or something. But _oh no, _my character was slap bang at the start. I was probably being paranoid, but I think it was deliberate of Ryan, to torture me.  
"Don't worry," she comforted me. "You'll be fine. We'd better get a move on, now, before it gets to half seven. Ryan _freaks _if we're late."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Being eco-friendly, I decided to walk down to the studios, about five minutes walk away.

_Some _people, however, thought differently.

"Hey, Anya! Nice shorts!" Mark yelled at me, honking his horn, whizzing past in a sleek, red car with no roof. He waved at me madly as I drove past, and I resisted an eye roll. Mark _truly was _an eleven year old boy stuck in a twenty year old's body.

By the time I'd arrived at the studios, the whole cast was there. They'd gathered in the car park, leaning against Mark's car, chattering. None of them seeming concerned about the time.

Dianna typically looked stunning in anything. This time, she wore jeans and a vest, but her olive-green eyes matched with her green vest.

Chris signalled me over. I'd been standing a few metres away, too shy to join them.

"What's with the shorts?" He commented, when I reached them.

"_Don't _lecture me, I've already had it from Jenna. I have several objects I can throw at you," I warned him.  
He pretended to look terrified. "Woah, please have mercy on me." Talking to him, I felt comfortable. He was the sort of person who could make me forget my troubles just by talking to him.

"I don't think I approve of your outfits, Miss Anya Hoods. First Darren's top, now this."

I froze. It felt like ice was splashed over me. My heart started thudding. "How did...You know about that?"

"No reason," he said airily.

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and dragged him over to a nearby car, away from the group. "Chris, don't play games with me. _Tell me._"

"OK, OK! Don't crumple this shirt, it's Ralph Lauren!"

I released him, resisting to laugh at his panic over his clothes, but still felt the ever-growing dread of the extent of Chris's knowledge.

"I've lived with Darren. When I say lived, I mean shared a room with him on concerts. I know his wardrobe from back to front. I know that striped top is a favourite of his, and when I saw you wearing it-" He jutted a hip out. "I knew something had happened."

"Lower your voice!" I hissed at him. The group's chatter continued, and I felt Mark bellow a laugh, so I felt slightly at ease.

"What happened that night, Anya?"

"We were...drunk, and I didn't know how but I ended up in his bed!" I rushed the last sentence. "There, happy now?"

His eyes widened. "Woah. I thought...maybe it was just you slept over in his hotel room, but his _bed_?! You two are closer than I thought."

"We were _drunk,_" I repeated. "And don't get the idea I normally do this! I never do this!"

"And by _this, _I've done it before, just not with... cast-mates," I hurriedly said when I saw his smug expression. "Can we go in now? Ryan's probably waiting."

"Be my guest."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I was right. Ryan _had been _waiting. He didn't look happy when Chris and I arrived. I hadn't noticed how quickly time passed, and that everyone else had gone inside. _Sneaky buggers. _I muttered curses silently in my head.

Ryan clapped his hands. "_Right. _Now we're all here, we can start. We'll start with cheerios and rugby players going to hair and makeup, first. Then we'll go through the glee club, women and men. Clothes will come after, in the same order. I'd like to introduce our hair and makeup stylists, Lindsay, Vivian, Vicky, Emma, Nora and Irene." He rambled off a list of names as women stepped forward, giving a smile, maybe a wave. One even winked and blew a kiss, but Ryan didn't notice.

Acting as a cheerio, I had to go through to hair and makeup first.

The hair and makeup was squashed into a small trailer, parked outside of the studios. Inside, it was very sleek, with neat, square mirrors lined up against the wall, and cream officer chairs facing them.

Lindsay, an unnerving silent worker did my makeup, applying a light, cream foundation, a touch of mascara and bronzer along my cheek bones. Once again, I didn't recognise the girl in the mirror. Except this time, she looked powerful. She looked strong.

I thanked Lindsay, who gave me a stiff nod, and moved on to have my hair done. This time, I got _Emma, _the complete opposite to Lindsay. She was bubbling with enthusiasm over how much she loved the show, and couldn't stop nattering about it. Her enthusiasm made me smile.

But my smile was wiped off my face when Darren came into the hair and makeup trailer, inquiring about hairspray and gel.

Emma noticed my sudden change of mood. "Something wrong?"

I sighed. "No, nothing."

She scraped back my hair into a tight ponytail, twisting it through her fingers. "Sure? Nothing..." She shot a quizzical look at Darren, waiting patiently by the door, and back to me. "On your mind?"

I forced a beam on my face. "Nope."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The time was half eight when I got out. The sun was climbing steadily higher, to the sky. I felt the full force of the heat on my face. The clothes trailer was sizeably bigger than the hair and makeup. I was met by Gee, a friendly woman, clothes manager. She waved me over to the dressing room, and asked for my waist and height measurements.

Scribbling it down, she disappeared into the dark depths of the trailer, muttering my measurements as she went. She returned with a pristine cheerios outfit, crisp in a plastic covering.

"Wow, thanks. How did you...?"

"-How did I manage to find a cheerios outfit with your size? Ryan ordered a _huge _bunch of them, from the smallest size to the largest." She smoothed down the costume, and let out a sigh. "Such a waste, but we can't argue. Here." She handed me the costume. I gingerly thanked her, and Gee pointed me in the direction of the dressing rooms. The trailer seemed to have no end.

I slid my hands over my exposed stomach, just in my bra and pants. In the mirror, I looked hideous, fat. I felt bloated. I knew what I had to do. I slipped on the cheerios uniform, taking a minute to stare at the red and white costume with MCKINLEY HIGH printed on it in red font. It'd look good on Heather, the skinny blonde, or Naya, the stunner. But not on me.

Under the curtain of the dressing room, a pair of red trainers are slid across. I uttered a silent thank you to Gee.

I pulled the trainers on, smoothed a hand over my ponytail, and was planning to rush to the toilets in the studio, to...get rid of some of my fat before filming, when I hear a shout for my name.

"Anya! Anya!"

I ran out of the trailer, to meet a disgruntled Jenna.

"They're asking for you. It's your scene. Follow me."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I took a deep breath, standing in the hallways of a fictional school. _No. I had to get into the mind set of Hayley. This is __**her **__school. This is her kingdom. And she rules it all. _The sound of the school bell rang, and it was my time to go.

**A/N: I was planning to write a chapter about her on set, and filming, bla, bla, but I postponed, as this turned out to be a pretty long chapter. **

**I know I said I wouldn't 'beg' for reviews, but I'd appreciate it if you did?**


	6. Coffee?

**Chapter 5: Coffee?**

I'd just finished filming my first scene. I was _relieved. _All the panic I felt before just washed over me.

"You did great!" Mark clapped me on the back.

"You were _amazing, _nothing to worry about. I actually believed you were a bitch in that scene," Jenna grinned at me.

"Thanks." At least, I _think _it's a compliment.

Amber swaggered up to me, beaming. "Dayum, girl! You can _act_!"

Jenna pushed Amber away, laughing. "Drama queen."

"Munchkin." Amber shot back.

I ignore them, flipping through my script. Scene 1 was just an introduction, a taster of my character. I'm on again in Scene 4, 8, 9 and 12. But the time it took to film that _first _scene, I doubt I'll be doing them today.

Lea bounced over, her hair swinging. "Nice...first go, Anya. Though there were things you could improve on, I just want to congratulate you." She turned around before I could answer, to talk to Kevin, stuck in a wheelchair for filming.

I growled at her behind her back.

"That's Lea," Jenna said not-so-comfortingly. "You'll get used to her."

**-**_**Flashback**_**-**

"Excuse me, but who are _you_?" Mark-er, _Puck_ pretends to stare at me in disgust.

I outstretch a hand. "I'm Hayley. Hayley Sparrow. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but you've gone through every girl in this school like you were going through those second hand, hang me down glasses you'll need in the future, so you'll get the _wrong _idea if I say it's nice to meet you." I purse my lips.

Puck opens his mouth to speak, but I get there first. "Let me cut this _'lovely meeting' _short. I'm the new head cheerleader, and this time, I'll be _perfect. _The cheerleader Sue's always wanted, minus getting pregnant or turning out to be a lesbian. I'm a junior, but I'm always up for a challenge," I say flirtatiously at him, winking.

"What's your point, _Sparrow_?" Puck seethes at me.

"Nothing." I shrug innocently. "I'm just a girl who gets what she wants, and if you deny me that man candy that is your body, you're making a _big mistake. _But I could find someone better." I pretend to eye him up and down. "I think I will. You see, your _jock years _of ruling the school are over. It's my reign this time, and _no-one _is going to get in my way." I whisk past Puck, deliberately banging into his shoulder. I clutch a girly floral folder to my chest, and look smug, looking into the camera as the scene ends.

"Cut!"

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I wasn't told much about my character. Hayley Sparrow was just a junior cheerleader. She was the new _head _cheerleader, and determined to make people bend to what she wanted to do. She was basically a new Santana, except a _lot _more bitchier.

I flopped down into a chair behind the camera crew, filming shots of the hallways, with the lilac lockers, and cork boards with notices pinned all over.

"Hey."

I looked up, and saw Darren standing over me.

"Can I sit here?" He asked, gesturing to the chair next to me.

"Sure," I told him, but the silence between us was tentative and awkward.

He finally broke the silence. "Anya, listen. I'm sorry for what's happened, and I _know _I didn't make a good impression on you, but I swear, I can be better than this. You were amazing up there, and it reminded me to be confident asking you this, how confident _you _were. I want to get to know you better. Not a _date, _don't get the wrong idea. Just friends going out for coffee. I _completely _understand if you don't want to, or you think I'm an idiot, or-"

I'm smiling at his awkwardness. "Darren, I will. I think we need a fresh start, too."

"Great. Just forget about everything that's happened, pretend we've _never _met before."

"I can manage that."

He answered my silent question. "There's a Starbucks, ten minutes drive from here. I'll pick you up at 5, after we finish filming. OK?"

"OK."

It still didn't make sense to me why a gorgeous guy like Darren would want to go out with _me, _but I wanted to have fun. Go out with friends. At least, I _hoped _he was my friend.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Like we were eleven year old best friends, Jenna was squealing when I told her the news. "He likes you! He likes you! I _knew _it!"

I was about to protest when I heard the 'I _knew _it' part. "Since when did you know? And know _what_? There's _nothing _going on between Darren and I, sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh, please." Jenna rolled her eyes. "From day one you two were making goo-goo eyes at each other. The rest of the cast were placing bets on when who would ask _who _out. Damn, that reminds me, I owe Chris ten bucks."

"What-why-when-_what?!_" I stumbled over my words. "You did what now?!"

"Calm." Jenna put a hand on my shoulders, forcing them down. "Breathe. It's nothing serious. Besides, you need to get ready!"

I stuck my tongue out at her, and shut my hotel door in front of her face. _It wasn't a date, _I kept reminding myself. I didn't bother changing, just tugged the hair band out of my stiff, styled hair and ran a brush through it.

The time said it was 4:30. I had half an hour to kill. I nervously glanced at my hotel room's bathroom.

_You should do it, _the voice whispered in my head. _You're too fat, you need to be __**skinny**__. Being skinny's the only way you'll be happy. _It tempted me, whispering things to make me believe being skinny would guarantee me happiness. I pushed the voice away.

I realised I still had my cheerios costume on. But I didn't take if off. Truth be told, I liked it. I liked how the costume hugged my curves, I liked the printed red school name across the chest, and I _loved _the cut of the hem at the bottom, with frills.

I did everything I could to stop the nagging feeling I looked _fat _with the costume on, brainstorming ideas to do within an hour.

In the end, I grabbed my laptop, my headphones, headed to the hotel bedroom, plugging in my headphones, opened Spotify and went through a new playlist I added.

A track popped up to me. I found if I didn't know what to say through words, I said it through song. It was Brokenhearted, by Karmin1. And I couldn't lie to myself, I knew who I was thinking of through that entire song.

_This is more than a typical kinda thing,  
Felt the joints in my bones where you were touching me, oh oh,  
Didn't want to take it slow.  
In a daze, going crazed, I can barely think,  
You're replaying in my brain, find it hard to sleep, oh oh,  
Waiting for my phone to blow._

Now I'm here in a sticky situation,  
Got a little trouble, yep and now I'm pacing,  
Five minutes, ten minutes, now it's been an hour,  
Don't wanna think too hard, but I'm sour,  
Oh oh, I can't seem to let you go!

See I've been waiting all day,  
For you to call me baby,  
So let's get up, let's get on it,  
Don't you leave me broken hearted tonight!  
Come on, that's right.  
Honest baby I'll do,  
Anything you want to,  
So can we finish what we started?  
Don't you leave me broken hearted tonight!  
Come on, that's right.

What's the time, such a crime,  
Not a single word, sippin on the patrone,  
Just to calm my nerves, oh oh,  
Poppin' bottles by the phone,  
Oh yeah.  
Pat me up, pat me down, turn me inside out,  
That's enough, pull me up,  
Baby I'm in doubt,  
I don't even think you know, no no.

See I've been waiting all day  
For you to call me baby  
So let's get up, let's get on it  
Don't you leave me broken hearted tonight!  
Come on, that's right  
Honest baby I'll do,  
Anything you want to,  
So can we finish what we started?  
Don't you leave me broken hearted tonight!  
Come on, that's right.__

Anything you wanna do, I'll be on it too,  
Everything you say, it's like a gold with a_view__.__  
Business on the front, party in__the back__,__  
Maybe I was wrong, was the alfa really wack?  
This kinda thing doesn't happen usually  
I'm on the opposite side of it, truthfully,  
I know you want it so come and get it._

See I've been waiting all day,  
For you to call me baby,  
So let's get up, let's get on it,  
Don't you leave me broken hearted tonight!  
Come on, that's right.  
Honest baby I'll do,  
Anything you want to,  
So can we finish what we started?  
Don't you leave me broken hearted tonight,  
Come on, that's right!

When you gonna call?  
Don't leave me broken hearted!  
I've been waiting up,  
Let's finish what we started, oh oh,  
I can't seem to let you go.  
Come on, that's right, cheerio!

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I was so absorbed in the song I didn't hear the knock at my door. But I heard the huge BANG, I jumped onto my feet to answer it.

I swung the door open to face Darren, again. Him showing up at my door was like déjà vu. A wonderful but upsetting déjà vu. My heart skipped a beat.

He'd changed out of what I called 'Blaine attire' mainly consisted of striped shirts, coloured breeches and hideous bow ties.

My hand clapped on my mouth. "Oh, Darren!" The high pitched squeak escaped my mouth. I'd completely forgot. I'd completely forgotten about our 'not-a-date-just-friends' deal, I was mortified.

"I'm _so _sorry, I completely forgot."

"It's fine, it's fine, honestly." I saw him trying to suppress a laugh, and I was briefly confused until I remembered I still had my cheerios costume on. That cut across, mid-thigh, exposing most of my legs. I was going to apologise, until I saw him blushing. _Darren Criss? Blushing?_

I had to take a second to photograph this moment with my mind. On an impulse, I shrugged on the cutest coat I had, and walked outside my hotel room, shutting it behind me.

"Let's go, shall we?"

Darren shook his head wildly. "Er-yeah, let's go."

Only he could be shocked and make it look adorable.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

4:50 and the burning sun was setting. The golden haze of the sunset spread across the sky, setting it on fire. I silently thanked whoever controlled the weather (God, probably) for allowing it to be so hot, that Darren had to take off his jacket, probably managing to be the only person alive to look hot, sweaty. I didn't know why, but seeing him in a hot mess did something to me.

We reached the Starbucks he told me about, tucked away in a corner of the busy street.

"This is it, huh?" I craned my head up to see the familiar logo of a woman, with flowing locks and a crown.

"I know it's not much, but-"

I silenced him, covering his mouth. He managed to get out a muffled _mnph! _I giggled.  
"Darren, be quiet. I just want two friends to enjoy a coffee together, OK?"

Thankfully he didn't lick my palm, like _some _people did, so I released him. He was staring at me in an odd way, his head tilted. "OK," he promised. "Just two _friends_ enjoying a coffee together." He emphasised the word, _friends._ I got the feeling he was trying his hardest to explain it _wasn't _a date.

"And, uh, Anya? I have something to tell you-" Darren started to tell me when we were inside of the Starbucks, but was cut off by a shout.

"_Darren_!" A large woman with grey hair and glasses perched on her nose, waddled over. "Is that _mi petite fleur?_" She captured Darren in what looked like a rib-crushing hug. I could see Darren mouthing the words, _help, help, _but I was enjoying myself too much.

He stuck his tongue out at me when I smirked. He was such a little kid.

The woman gave him a fond smile. "Darren, it's so nice to see you!"

"You too, Frances."

I gave him a look which showed my confusion. _Frances? Frances?!_

He gave me a look which said, 'don't you dare say anything.'

'Frances' put a hand on his back, and steered him a table, forcing him to sit down. "How has everything been? I haven't heard from your mother in a while."

"She's been, busy. In Chicago."

Frances sighed dreamily. "Ah. Chicago. I remember it well when I was a young, pretty girl. Like your friend here." She nodded at me.

I ducked my head, letting my hair fall in front of my face like a curtain, embarrassed.

"Could we have two coffees, Frances?" He asked her, avoiding what she just said.

"Of course. Anything for mi petite fleur." She scuttled off, the strings of her Starbucks apron floating out behind her.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Once she was out of earshot, the billions of questions that I'd held back came flying out of my mouth. "Frances? Who is she? How'd you know her? And most importantly, _why _does she call you her 'little flower'?" The last question I asked with a hint of teasing, falling down into the chair next to him, by the small, wobbling table.

"OK, OK. Slow down. First of all, she's French. So don't tease her."

I rolled my eyes. "I won't _tease _her, you loon. We're not in school anymore."

"Second, she's a family friend. My family used to live around here, and this Starbucks we basically visited every day. It was like we lived here. My mum was close with Frances," he said, distantly, like he was remembering all of his childhood memories.

"_And _the 'little flower'?" I asked, laughing.  
"A nickname she gave me. And, it sort of stuck." He saw me biting my lip. "Stop it! Seriously! It's embarrassing enough, anyway! I will make sure your coffee doesn't get here if you don't stop," he warned me.

"Ooh, I'm scared. A man who takes coffee. You must be bad." I leaned in closer, and felt a little dizzy. Up close, I could see the shadow of the sun on his face, and those long, dark eyelashes that lined his eyes.

We stayed like that, close to each other, him just looking at my face, a hint of a smile on his lips. Until Frances came over, and with a lot of noise and scuffle, crashed our coffees down onto the table with the green Starbucks logo.

"If you need anything else, I'll be behind the counter." Frances stared at Darren with a soft, motherly expression.

"Thanks, Frances. It's good to see you too," he replied, and it was enough to put a beam on her face, and send her off.

I cupped the coffee she gave me, warming my frozen hands.

"I want to know about you."

He looked surprised. "What do you want to know?"  
"You. Everybody knows you as the actor who plays Blaine on a hit TV show, but I feel like I don't know _you._"

Darren sat there thoughtfully, like he was running a script in his head, and was going to read it out to me. "Well, I grew up in LA, here, obviously. I left home at 18. My parents both died in a car crash, two years later."

"Wait, what? I thought you told Frances that your mother..." My voice faded away.

He exhaled deeply. "That was just for Frances. I don't want her knowing."

I saw the pain in his eyes, and nodded. "OK. What else?"

"I have a brother, Charles, but he's currently doing gigs, touring the country, with his band. I don't get to see him a lot." He let out a shaky laugh. "That's my family. What else do you want to know?"

I felt like I pushed him to the edge, talking about his family, but I was curious now. "What do you do in your spare time?"  
"Besides Glee? I don't get a lot of spare time, but when I do, I song write and play my guitar, mostly. It feels like the only thing I should be doing, only thing I want to do."

I remembered seeing the sleek guitar. "The guitar in your hotel room..."

"Yep. That's Andria. She goes everywhere with me."

I almost spat out my coffee. "Wait, she? You gave your guitar a name?"

Darren shrugged. "Makes it more personal. Anyway, you've heard another about me. What about _you, _the great Anya Hoods?" He shifted slightly in his seat, nudging my legs under the table slightly.  
"Great? No." I struggled concentrating with his legs so close to mine. I know I was being ridiculous. It was just a feeling I couldn't lock away. "I live in Washington. I don't have any siblings, an only child."

"Only child? That must be pretty lonely."

I ignored his intense gaze. He was making this hard for me. "I'm fine with it. I don't see my parents, much. Not since my dad had an affair."

He whistled under his breath, but motioned for me to continue.

"My mum lives two whole states away. So it's pretty difficult to see her, too. I wanted to get as far away as possible from them as I could." I changed the subject quickly when I saw his sympathetic look. "I've known Ryan from college. We weren't in the same year, though. He's older than me, just to clear that up. A _lot _older. I'm not a Grandma. Acting's my career, but I haven't had many auditions..." I faltered, but cleared my throat and continued. I was getting close to my personal stuff. "Ryan dropped a line, and I was hooked. I knew when I saw the chance he was giving me, I couldn't resist. The catsuit was just to get on his nerves. We're not exactly _'friends'_, anyway."

His leg brushed gently against mine, purposely. "Wait. You and Ryan aren't 'bezzies'? We never would have guessed," he joked.

I took a sip of my coffee, and it scalded my tongue. I covered my mouth, but he looked concerned. "You OK?"

"Mmm-hmm," I said in response, taking my hand away. "Hot coffee."

"Oh yeah, I probably should have told you, Frances serves a pretty hot coffee."

I glowered at him. He pouted, giving me the puppy-dog eyes. He wanted to play like that? Fine.

I let my foot rub against his leg, trailing up to his knee, and back down again, giving him what I hoped was a pretty smouldering look.

Darren swallowed nervously.

In the end, I cracked and I burst out laughing.

He looked pretty relieved, letting out a breath.

"It's called _acting, _Darren. You should try it some time," I teased him.

"That was just cruel."

My phone buzzed in the back of my pocket, and I excused myself to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Anya. It's Chris. There's not a lot of time to explain, so I'll tell you quickly."

"W-What's going on?"

"The paparazzi are close by. They've already taken a few shots of you and Darren. You need to leave, and you need to leave now."

"OK, I'll go get Darren." My stomach churned with fear.

There was a pause. "What are you doing with Darren, in a cafe, anyway?"

"You want to make chit-chat _now_?"  
"Good point. I'll see you at the hotel."

I cut off the call, and jogged over to Darren.

"Darren, we need to go, like _now._" I grabbed my coat and his arm, and forcibly _dragged _him out.

"Hey, what's going on?" He looked upset. "I didn't get time to say goodbye to Frances, _or _pay."

"You can have time to pay _after _we escape the paparazzi," I growled at him.

He buried his face in his hands, in a tired groan. "I should have known. Seeing me, in a cafe with another woman... This is gold for them."

I began running, and he followed close after.

"This-is why-I hate-paparazzi-" He said, between breaths.

"Hurry up."

**A/N: I have a few things to apologise for, because I realise now, there is a flaw in my story. For example; Anya is apparently meant to have gone to the same college as Ryan, and he's about 41, but I planned for her to be around late 20s, early 30s? So, yeah, sorry about that.**

**I **_**also**_** want to say, whatever I wrote about Darren's family, was all fictional. Like I said at the beginning of the story, it's all fiction! I'm pretty sure his parents **_**are **_**alive, and I honestly have no idea about his brother.**

**I wanted to clear up those things.**

**Keep on reading, I'm going to keep on writing!**


	7. First kiss

**Chapter 6: First kiss**

We were panting by the time we reached the hotel. Chris was waiting outside for us, wearing a purple, velvet beret and tapping his foot impatiently. He raised an eyebrow at the state of us, immaculate as ever.

"We had no time to _change_," I told him.

"Sure, sure," he said, waving a hand. "C'mon, we've got to get inside before they can thieve any _more _photos." He said the last sentence with a hint of seething.

"I'm not protesting."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris led us through to the hotel lounge, a huge, wide stretch of room with the reception directly in the front. The flirtish blonde leant on her sleek counter, making eyes at Darren.  
"Excuse me for a second." I made a beeline for the receptionist, shooting daggers.

"Hello? Yes, you. I noticed you checking out my _fiancée _just now. Do you mind if, for one day, you don't, in that cheap little scrap of fabric you call a dress, _not _to attempt abusing your job to pick up married men? Thanks." I walk back to Chris and Darren, while she gapes, attempting to grasp my words.

"Check you, girl!" Chris said to me.

"Oh my god. Did-Did I just _say that?!_ I don't know what came over me. I've got to apologise." I attempted to turn back, but Chris grabbed my arm. "No time," he said apologetically. "My hotel room. Now."

"Is that an invite, _Mr Colfer_?" I asked, seductively.

He winked. "Play your cards right, you know the rest..."

Darren coughed. "Guys, I hate to interrupt, but..."

"Follow me, and prepare yourselves, you are about to enter the _majestic _Chris Colfer's room." He pressed a button on the elevator.

"Can't wait."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris's room was more like a rich, old woman's room who spent money luxuriously on unnecessary things. It was twice the size of mine, and even had possum furred carpet, lain on the floor.

"_Fake _fur," Chris said to me, reading my expression. "I know the law."

I jumped onto his bed straight away, after seeing the silk sheets and fluffy cushions.

Chris sat himself next to me. "Budge up."

I obliged, glimpsing Darren standing awkwardly near us. I patted the seat next to me, but he shook his head. "I'm fine, here."

Chris took out his phone and furiously starting scrolling. "Nothing's up, yet. Maybe we're lucky?"

"Or maybe... They're biding their time."

"Great outlook, Anya! Thanks for that!"

I shrugged. "Just being realistic."

"Now that you're here, you may as well stay for dinner."

"But we're staying in the same hotel!" Darren whined.

I caught Chris's eye, and he answered the question I hadn't spoken. "Let's just say me and cooking have a bad past."

"You _burnt the kitchen down _last time." Darren stated.

"Everybody makes mistakes."

An idea formed in my head. "How about I cook? Believe me, you haven't _lived _until you've tried my chicken pasta."

"Whatever the lady wants," Chris teased me. I threw a cushion at his head, he ducked.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and made my way to his kitchen, out of place with its small, grubby white look.

I was rummaging through the cupboards, and found my ingredients. Along with a tin of children's spaghetti shapes. I stored away this useful information to embarrass Chris. Thirty minutes later, I was mixing the chicken and pasta together, when Chris complained he was hungry.

"Darren?" I called. "Can you help me with some tasting?"

"Be careful, you don't know _what _she's put in there," Chris warned him.

_I'd get him later, _I comforted myself. I turned back around, to watch my cooking, before I heard footsteps behind me.

"What'd you want me to taste?"

"Here." I span around, with a teaspoon, and brushed against his nose. I hid a laugh, when I saw his nose was tipped with pasta sauce.

"What?" He caught me staring at his nose.

"You've got something-" I wiped the sauce of his nose. "There."

"You got sauce on my nose? Oh, you are _dead._" He chased me around the kitchen, while I was squealing, and eventually caught me, grabbing my waist. We both ended laughing our heads off.

I found myself tracing the shape of his face with my eyes- from his hairline, down the side of his face, along his smooth jawline, and ended up staring at my lips.  
"Anya." It came out as a choke, a plead.

Curious, I lifted up my head to kiss him. It was only meant to be an experiment, a brief kiss, but he tightened his grip on me, his arms around my waist, and broke away, briefly to nuzzle my ear and kiss down my neck.

The kiss was even better sober.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

We re-entered Chris's bedroom, I was slightly embarrassed, but thrilled with the idea that we had been kissing, next door. "Finally. Where have you two been, off in the magical land of Narnia?" I dropped my head down, muttering something about the sauce taking a while to cook. Darren, however, was a lifesaver. He spun a story about me forgetting to put the seasoning in (which I never would forget) and having to help me.

I got the sudden mental image of Darren leaning into me, his head resting on my shoulders, while his hands were on top of mine, gently explaining how to season, with the herbs scattered out in front of us.

_-Whoah. Where did __**that **__come from? I thought you didn't need anybody. _And I didn't. But it didn't stop me wanting to have someone.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"I'll go serve the chicken pasta, then." He excused himself, while Chris sat there, a vogue magazine open in front of him, quietly thinking. A brief flicker of realisation came over his face, and passed.

"I didn't think it would take long for you to get together," he finally spoke.

I was startled. "We're not, we're not-" I lowered my voice. "-_Together. _That's weird, too weird. We're co-stars, for crying out loud!"

"True." He pondered. "But I don't blame you. It's not like I didn't catch myself from time to time, wondering what it would be like to have a relationship with Darren. But that was just the cocaine talking."

I _badly _wanted to ask him about the apparent 'drugs' he took, but I already figured out Chris lived his life a little wildly. I didn't blame him if he'd experimented with drugs, once or twice in his life.

"May have been a few times, actually. I can't remember, it was all a blur. Next morning I woke up with a Russian man next to me."

"_So _many things wrong with that sentence, but I won't go there. We're not in a _relationship, _but-"

"I knew it! There is a _but_!"

"We just kissed a couple of times. Once, at Ryan's party when _everyone _was too drunk to remember, and um, five minutes ago. In my kitchen."

"_Wait. _You're saying right now, five minutes ago, while I was _next _door, you guys kissed? I'm losing my touch."

I snapped my fingers in front of him. "Uh, Chris? Not the most important thing right now. I-I don't know if we're in a relationship, I mean just because we _kissed _doesn't mean he's into me. I can see why he wouldn't be."

He shook his head, sighing over-dramatically. "You don't see it, do you? In the way he looks at you. Besides, everyone else has agreed you two would be adorable together. The intimidating, empowered, mysterious woman from Ryan's past, and the young, _totallymegafoxysmokinghot _guy, working on the set with you."

I crossed my arms. "_Intimidating_?"

"Our first impression of you was you, wearing a tight catsuit. You can't say that's _not _intimidating."

It was then I realised Darren had been taking a _really _long time.

_Oh God. He heard us._

I took hold of Chris's shirt, and dragged him to the kitchen. "I think dinner should be ready now."

**Chapter 6: First Kiss**

We were panting by the time we reached the hotel. Chris was waiting outside for us, wearing a purple, velvet beret and tapping his foot impatiently. He raised an eyebrow at the state of us, immaculate as ever.

"We had no time to _change_," I told him.

"Sure, sure," he said, waving a hand. "C'mon, we've got to get inside before they can thieve any _more _photos." He said the last sentence with a hint of seething.

"I'm not protesting."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris led us through to the hotel lounge, a huge, wide stretch of room with the reception directly in the front. The flirtish blonde leant on her sleek counter, making eyes at Darren.  
"Excuse me for a second." I made a beeline for the receptionist, shooting daggers.

"Hello? Yes, you. I noticed you checking out my _fiancée _just now. Do you mind if, for one day, you don't, in that cheap little scrap of fabric you call a dress, _not _to attempt abusing your job to pick up married men? Thanks." I walk back to Chris and Darren, while she gapes, attempting to grasp my words.

"Check you, girl!" Chris said to me.

"Oh my god. Did-Did I just _say that?!_ I don't know what came over me. I've got to apologise." I attempted to turn back, but Chris grabbed my arm. "No time," he said apologetically. "My hotel room. Now."

"Is that an invite, _Mr Colfer_?" I asked, seductively.

He winked. "Play your cards right, you know the rest..."

Darren coughed. "Guys, I hate to interrupt, but..."

"Follow me, and prepare yourselves, you are about to enter the _majestic _Chris Colfer's room." He pressed a button on the elevator.

"Can't wait."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris's room was more like a rich, old woman's room who spent money luxuriously on unnecessary things. It was twice the size of mine, and even had possum furred carpet, lain on the floor.

"_Fake _fur," Chris said to me, reading my expression. "I know the law."

I jumped onto his bed straight away, after seeing the silk sheets and fluffy cushions.

Chris sat himself next to me. "Budge up."

I obliged, glimpsing Darren standing awkwardly near us. I patted the seat next to me, but he shook his head. "I'm fine, here."

Chris took out his phone and furiously starting scrolling. "Nothing's up, yet. Maybe we're lucky?"

"Or maybe... They're biding their time."

"Great outlook, Anya! Thanks for that!"

I shrugged. "Just being realistic."

"Now that you're here, you may as well stay for dinner."

"But we're staying in the same hotel!" Darren whined.

I caught Chris's eye, and he answered the question I hadn't spoken. "Let's just say me and cooking have a bad past."

"You _burnt the kitchen down _last time." Darren stated.

"Everybody makes mistakes."

An idea formed in my head. "How about I cook? Believe me, you haven't _lived _until you've tried my chicken pasta."

"Whatever the lady wants," Chris teased me. I threw a cushion at his head, he ducked.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and made my way to his kitchen, out of place with its small, grubby white look.

I was rummaging through the cupboards, and found my ingredients. Along with a tin of children's spaghetti shapes. I stored away this useful information to embarrass Chris. Thirty minutes later, I was mixing the chicken and pasta together, when Chris complained he was hungry.

"Darren?" I called. "Can you help me with some tasting?"

"Be careful, you don't know _what _she's put in there," Chris warned him.

_I'd get him later, _I comforted myself. I turned back around, to watch my cooking, before I heard footsteps behind me.

"What'd you want me to taste?"

"Here." I span around, with a teaspoon, and brushed against his nose. I hid a laugh, when I saw his nose was tipped with pasta sauce.

"What?" He caught me staring at his nose.

"You've got something-" I wiped the sauce of his nose. "There."

"You got sauce on my nose? Oh, you are _dead._" He chased me around the kitchen, while I was squealing, and eventually caught me, grabbing my waist. We both ended laughing our heads off.

I found myself tracing the shape of his face with my eyes- from his hairline, down the side of his face, along his smooth jawline, and ended up staring at my lips.  
"Anya." It came out as a choke, a plead.

Curious, I lifted up my head to kiss him. It was only meant to be an experiment, a brief kiss, but he tightened his grip on me, his arms around my waist, and broke away, briefly to nuzzle my ear and kiss down my neck.

The kiss was even better sober.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

We re-entered Chris's bedroom, I was slightly embarrassed, but thrilled with the idea that we had been kissing, next door. "Finally. Where have you two been, off in the magical land of Narnia?" I dropped my head down, muttering something about the sauce taking a while to cook. Darren, however, was a lifesaver. He spun a story about me forgetting to put the seasoning in (which I never would forget) and having to help me.

I got the sudden mental image of Darren leaning into me, his head resting on my shoulders, while his hands were on top of mine, gently explaining how to season, with the herbs scattered out in front of us.

_-Whoah. Where did __**that **__come from? I thought you didn't need anybody. _And I didn't. But it didn't stop me wanting to have someone.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"I'll go serve the chicken pasta, then." He excused himself, while Chris sat there, a vogue magazine open in front of him, quietly thinking. A brief flicker of realisation came over his face, and passed.

"I didn't think it would take long for you to get together," he finally spoke.

I was startled. "We're not, we're not-" I lowered my voice. "-_Together. _That's weird, too weird. We're co-stars, for crying out loud!"

"True." He pondered. "But I don't blame you. It's not like I didn't catch myself from time to time, wondering what it would be like to have a relationship with Darren. But that was just the cocaine talking."

I _badly _wanted to ask him about the apparent 'drugs' he took, but I already figured out Chris lived his life a little wildly. I didn't blame him if he'd experimented with drugs, once or twice in his life.

"May have been a few times, actually. I can't remember, it was all a blur. Next morning I woke up with a Russian man next to me."

"_So _many things wrong with that sentence, but I won't go there. We're not in a _relationship, _but-"

"I knew it! There is a _but_!"

"We just kissed a couple of times. Once, at Ryan's party when _everyone _was too drunk to remember, and um, five minutes ago. In my kitchen."

"_Wait. _You're saying right now, five minutes ago, while I was _next _door, you guys kissed? I'm losing my touch."

I snapped my fingers in front of him. "Uh, Chris? Not the most important thing right now. I-I don't know if we're in a relationship, I mean just because we _kissed _doesn't mean he's into me. I can see why he wouldn't be."

He shook his head, sighing over-dramatically. "You don't see it, do you? In the way he looks at you. Besides, everyone else has agreed you two would be adorable together. The intimidating, empowered, mysterious woman from Ryan's past, and the young, _totallymegafoxysmokinghot _guy, working on the set with you."

I crossed my arms. "_Intimidating_?"

"Our first impression of you was you, wearing a tight catsuit. You can't say that's _not _intimidating."

It was then I realised Darren had been taking a _really _long time.

_Oh God. He heard us._

I took hold of Chris's shirt, and dragged him to the kitchen. "I think dinner should be ready now."

**A/N: I'm not sure whether to continue this story or not, because I haven't got any encouragement? I said I wouldn't beg and I'm not, but just **_**one **_**review would make my day? Just one **_**teensy-tiny-wincy **_**review? I'm sort of disappointed. C'mon, guys! Doesn't take a minute!**

***ahem* Moving on from that note, I had fun playing with Chris's character. I've always imagined him to be a bit of a drama queen, a bit sarcastic, but a funny person. I think everyone guessed what would happen in this chapter, right? I thought it was about time Anya and Darren kissed, but **_**sober, **_**this time. :D**


	8. Women issues

**Chapter 7: 'Women issues'**

Hushed silence. "Places, everyone? _Annd _action!"

-_Filming Perspective _(**A/N: From now on, I'll call this from Anya's 'filming perspective. It's written in first person, but still from her POV, except she's in her character mode)**-

I strut down the hallway. Two months in and they already know my name. I knew I'd make a mark on this school. I could have whoever I wanted. But who did I want? I liked playing games. I liked getting what I want. And right now, I had my sights set on the 'supposed' gay, Blaine. He had potential to be the hottest piece that walked down this corridor, if he ditched the bow ties and stopped hanging out with losers, like Anderson and Hummel. There was something about that high-pitched voice of his and the smug expression he wore all the time, that made me want to punch him squarely in the face. I'd do it, if it weren't for Blaine. I didn't actually _have feelings for him, _but I got bored, from time to time. Messing with his head was the only way I could think to preoccupy me.

I find him in the courtyard, with his 'friends.' That _Berry _girl, and the fashionable gay, Hummel.

I signal for the CD player to be switched on, and as the music begins to play, I start to sing.

_Once upon time  
A few mistakes ago  
I was in your sights _(I blow a kiss at Anderson)_  
You got me alone  
You found me  
You found me  
You found me_

I guess you didn't care

(I slowly walk down the stairs. Everybody's staring at me.)_  
And I guess I liked that  
And when I fell hard  
You took a step back  
Without me, without me, without me_

And he's long gone  
When he's next to me  
And I realize the blame is on me

Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in

(I point at Anderson, standing, facing him, Berry and Hummel. Berry looks furious.)_  
So shame on me now  
Flew me to places i'd never been  
Till you put me down oh  
I knew you were trouble when you walked in  
So shame on me now _(I bite my lip)_  
Flew me to places i'd never been  
Now i'm lying on the cold hard ground  
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble  
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble_

No apologies  
He'll never see you cry  
Pretend he doesn't know  
That he's the reason why  
You're drowning, you're drowning, you're drowning

And I heard you moved on  
From whispers on the street

(I pretend to look around)_  
A new notch in your belt  
Is all I'll ever be  
And now I see, now I see, now I see  
He was long gone  
When he met me  
And I realize the joke is on me_

I knew you were trouble when you walked in

(I walk towards Anderson, forcing him back.)_  
So shame on me now  
Flew me to places i'd never been  
Till you put me down oh  
I knew you were trouble when you walked in _(He falls down, onto the bench seat.)_  
So shame on me now  
Flew me to places I'd never been  
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground  
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble  
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble_

_When your saddest fear comes creeping in_  
_That you never loved me or her or anyone or anything_  
_Yeah_

(I belt this last word out, holding out my hands)

_I knew you were trouble when you walked in_

(I walk away from Anderson, looking like he doesn't know what to do, and back to Aaron, waiting for me by the staircase)_  
So shame on me now  
Flew me to places I'd never been  
Till you put me down oh  
I knew you were trouble when you walked in _(I throw an arm over Aaron's shoulder, and grind into him, dropping down and back up)_  
So shame on me now  
Flew me to places I'd never been _(Aaron grinds into my body with a fury I didn't know he possessed)_  
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground  
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble  
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble_

I knew you were trouble when you walked in

(I walk away from Aaron, and back to Anderson. Berry's gaping. Good.)_  
Trouble, trouble, trouble  
I knew you were trouble when you walked in  
Trouble, trouble, trouble! _

He stands back up, away from the bench, and I face him, smiling flirtatiously.

I pull him forward by his collar, and whisper into his ear, "I hope you enjoyed the show. You being gay is just an obstacle I'll have to overcome."

"Get away- from my boyfriend, _Sparrow_," Hummel seethes at me, with a protective Berry standing by his side, arms crossed, _steaming. _

I tut. "No need to be touchy, Kurt. I'm going now." I pout at Blaine. "See you around."

I flounce off. Over my shoulder, I wave, with Aaron by my side.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"Cut!" The director signalled. "Great job, Anya!" He called to me. I'm already nervous and panicking how the scene turns out. My red and white costume already seems tight.

Jenna ran over, and hugged me. I didn't respond, being unsure what to do. I stood there, waiting for her to pull away.

"You were _amazing. _And I actually think you irritated Lea, which is a plus!" She pointed to Lea, complaining loudly about there being no ice in her non-alcoholic lemonade.

I growled. "Little-"

"_Anyway_." Jenna rose her voice. She told me, two weeks on, she _hated _swearing. I had to bite my tongue almost till the point it bled, to prevent upsetting her. "It's a shame they recorded someone's voice over yours, it'd be great if you _actually sang_?"

"No." I shook my head. "No way. Never. Nuh-uh. _Not going to happen_."  
I confided in her, too, that I loved to sing. But I never did it in front of anyone.

She sighed. "Give it some thought, OK? Now I have to go get an iced lemonade for Lea, before she blows her top."

"OK." I gazed into the distance dreamily. Since yesterday, Darren hadn't spoken to me at all. Either he never wanted to see me again, because it was too incredibly awkward, or the kiss _meant _something to him. I knew it was the second option, for me. But I knew there was little chance someone like _Darren _liked someone like _me. _I was a wreck, a mess. Life had messed me up. No way would he want to be near me. I was still waiting anxiously for news from Chris, in the paparazzi front. He said he'd keep me updated.

Right on cue, my phone buzzed.

**Look at this: -Chris**

He sent me a link. Without thinking, I clicked on it. It was an online newspaper article. Some trashy magazine that followed celebrity's lives. I never read magazines.

_**Darren with mystery woman?**_The headline read. I groaned loudly. I knew this day had to come.

_We all knew since Darren Criss's break up with Mia- _who was Mia?- _Mia Swier, writer, producer and freelance film director, Darren revealed in a December 2012 interview he was __**crushed**__. We were all rooting for the two to reunite, but it seems Darren has moved on quickly, and found himself a new woman. _

_He was spotted in a small, seclusive Starbucks, LA, with a woman [photographed below.]_

The 'photo' was us together, me looking like a fool, laughing my head off, clutching a coffee.

_We interviewed Mia, and she told us she wouldn't go down without a __**fight**__. Looks like the 'Darren wars' have already broken out. We wish you luck, Mia Swiers!_

I texted Chris back frantically. **This article is **_**bs,**_**-Anya**

I got a sympathetic response. **I know, don't listen. The worst that could happen is them finding out your identity. And I won't let that happen. **I sat there on the set, smiling like an idiot at his sweet text. _What was I doing? I liked __**Darren**__, not __**Chris**__. _

_I didn't like __**either **__of them, _I thought to myself firmly.

And I wasn't about to go tell Darren about this. The commotion would die down, eventually.

My phone buzzed again, alerting me. It was Chris, again.

**Want me to come over to your hotel room with 'Mean Girls' and marshmallows? –Chris**

I typed back a quick reply. _**Definitely. **_**–Anya**

Why not? Chris made me laugh, and he was good company to be around. He seemed a good person to have as a friend, I told myself. I was battling myself. One side told me it would be _wrong _and _betray _Darrren, if I invited Chris over. The other side argued it was ridiculous, and whoever I chose to be my friend, I could.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

We finished filming the first ten scenes quickly. My character only made three appearances in the episode, so I had the rest of the week off. I found myself enjoying playing the mean, bitchy girl for once. It was my style.

Jenna remained a good friend I talk to when I was having 'woman issues.' I burst out laughing when she told me she called it 'woman issues' not 'girls problems'. Annoyingly enough, the phrase stuck and I found myself using it, from time to time. I had fun flirting with Mark, we both had a laugh, and both _loved _seeing the reactions on people's faces when we told them we were dating. We even kissed, to prove it. But my heart was with Darren. I'd given up denying I had feelings for him, and hoped it was only a fangirl crush and would wear out soon. But the more I saw him, the harder it was to push those feelings away.

I _never _saw Ryan. He was as rare being spotted on set, with the rest of the crew, as a lion is being spotted in a water park.

But the person I really got close to, was Chris. We connected quickly, and had the same sense of humour. He was as good as a girl talking to about _woman issues. _He thought the same, and could even give me advice on guys, being one. Not that I needed any.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"So." Chris flopped himself down, next to me on my bed. "I brought Mean Girls, as requested. _And _along with marshmallows, ice cream. It's a great feel-good food, for getting over guys. I _know _from experience."

That last bit didn't surprise me. "What do you mean, _'getting over guys'?_" I grabbed the DVD remote from over him. "I don't need any help with that."

"Gurl, _puh-lease._" Chris put a hand on his hip and did his best '_you ain't fooling no-one, sista' _impression. That's what I called it.

"You practically _drool_ over Darren when you think no-one's looking."

"No I don't!" I protested. I start up Mean Girls.

" .Do. I think you should just _get on with it _and ask him out! It's obvious he's crazy about you, too!"  
"Really?" I asked hopefully, without thinking. Then I snapped back to reality. "No he doesn't. We're...good friends, I guess."

"Where have I heard _that _before," Chris muttered. He gazed at me thoughtfully for a while, before he said, "You know, I miss the old Anya. The _I'll kick your butt if you keep staring at __**mine, **_Anya. She would have already gone and asked Darren out, and before anyone knows it, hit that."

"She's still here. Just... watching her step. I don't want to get fired. I'd miss you guys too much."

He put a hand over his heart. "Touched. Deeply. But do you know what would help me more? _Going out with Darren._"

I hit him over the head with a pillow. "Where's the ice cream? I think I need some, actually."

He passed me a cold tub of Ben & Jerry's. "I thought you'd never ask."

**A/N: I still don't know if my story's good enough to continue. Seriously, I'm not 'seeking attention' or anything, I **_**actually **_**think it's pretty bad. I just look at other amazing stories, and I can't help comparing mine to theirs. **

**I'll carry on, because I always make a promise to myself to never leave a story uncompleted. But I'm pretty sure I've broken that rule too many times, anyway. **

**Please review if you can, or want to!**


	9. Bring back the old Anya

**Chapter 8: Bring back the old Anya**

What Kurt said to me gets me thinking. Has the tough, bad-ass Anya side of me really gone? I don't want to think of myself as a girl anyone can manipulate. Doubts cloud over in my head, the next day. I'm distracted on set and I pay for it, dearly. I get an earful of shouting from the camera man, and sent off in disgrace.

People give my empathetic smiles, and a word or two, but there's not much they can do.

Instead, an idea pops up into my head. A crazy, unreasonable idea. But I have to try it out.

It doesn't take me long, and because I'm an 'old friend' people make exceptions for me.

I managed to snag a meeting with Ryan, who stared at me and drummed his fingers against the desk. He looked impatient, but he forces a friendly welcome.

"What can I do for you, Anya?" His office inside of Paramount studios is messy, nothing like I'd expect from him. Piles of paperwork, threatening to wobble over and crash, and pens scattered around.

"I have a request."

He gestured for me to speak. I shifted nervously in my seat. _Loud and clear, Anya. Loud and clear._

"I want to sing. In the show. I want my character to be able to sing, and to have my voice recorded." The words come out as a rush.

He sighed irritably. "You know that complicates things, a lot?"

"I know. But it's my request as an actress on this show."

"We'll see what we can do. I'll update you."

I leave his office, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through me.

_Now that's what the old Anya would do. Get things her way._

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris, was as thrilled as I am when I tell him my news.

"I told you, you had it in you! I swear, you're getting her back. Maybe one of these days you'll be able to ask out Darren." He winked.

I laughed. "If I'm _lucky._"

He raised his hands in defence. "Say what you want, but I won the date bet, Jenna paid me ten bucks, _and _I'll probably predict when you _finally _realise you both madly love each other. It's easy money."

I gave him a shove. "Cocky, much?"

He ignored me. "We have the day off. What do you want to do?"

I ran over ideas in my head. "_Definitely _not clubbing over what happened last time... coffee's a bad idea... I don't want to hang around here, near the set and near Ryan... I think there's only one possible solution."

"Sleepover." We both said, in chorus.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I didn't feel weird sharing the same room as Chris. It was almost like sharing a room with girl, except less soppy. He basically _was _a little feminine in real life, but not the gay kind they showed on the show. His excuse was, sometimes, he just 'preferred the company of girls'.

Later that day, around 6-ish, Chris dropped by my house with bags of popcorn and crisps, a couple of rented films and a change of clothes.

"You know," I said to him, licking crisp crumbs off my fingers, "I think we need to invite more people next time."

"They have a name for that. It's called a _house party._"

"Whatever. If I'm going to get through this evening, I need alcohol." I hopped off my bed, and headed to my drinks minibar. The advantage of staying in a hotel meant the _unlimited _supply of alcohol. Literally. Mark informed me you could carry on ordering as much lager as you want, they'll just keep bringing it to you, if you keep paying. _He'd know, obviously._

"Need anything?" I browsed through.  
"No thanks. I don't want my death to be caused by alcohol poisoning."

"I'm not going to get _drunk. _Just enough so I feel better about myself."

"Alcoholic."  
I grabbed a bottle of lager, which was _exactly _what I needed.

"So why all the lager all of a sudden?" He asked, when I returned with a couple of bottles. He unscrewed the lid of one and popped it open.

"I thought you were too good for lager?" I teased.

"Changed my mind. And _you _still haven't answered my question." He pointed at me.

"...No reason."  
"If I know people, I know no _binge _is pointless. People have their reasons. To get over a break up, to get drunk to feel better about themselves, peer pressure, to have a wild time. Which type are you?"

"_No _type. It's just..." I paused, to take out my phone, and scroll through the Twitter comments.

**Ugly slut. **

**Stupid whore.**

**She doesn't deserve Darren, he's too good for her. **

**Boyfriend snatcher.**

**Fat.**

**Mia deserves to win! Come on, Mia!**

**I hope she dies.**

**No, better, I hope she **_**chokes herself to death. **_**So we can all laugh about it.**

**Go die, you dumb bitch.**

I'm a tough person. I've been through countless numbers of times where I've been shot down for a part, but never like this before. Every comment sent a stab through my gut.

I started to take the comments to heart. I started to _believe _I was fat, I was ugly.

_Only one way to solve your problem, _the voice whispered. I blocked it out, I ignored it. But I was beginning to crack. Yesterday I got through with only water, and an apple.

"Give me that." Chris stole my phone off me, with my protesting and trying desperately to grab it back. It was too late. He saw the comments. At first, his face furrowed into confusion. Then it quickly switched into anger. "Who are they, Anya? _Who are these people?!_" He yelled, directly at me.

"I-I don't know! Strangers!" I broke down into tears. He saw what he had done, and his expression softened. His hand rubbed gently against my back, stroking my head, and whispering comfort. I leant into him, my tears staining my cheeks.

_How did this happen? One minute I was a powerful, confident person. Now I'm a complete wreck. _

"It's OK," Chris whispered to me. "We'll get through this. I just need to know how they found."

"It was the article I-I think." I rubbed my eyes against my sleeve. "_Somehow _people managed to obtain my name, from my Facebook account picture, and associate it with the picture. Someone I know must have told them." I took deep breaths, gulping in air, my lungs burning.

"I'll stop them. I promise." I looked into Chris's eyes, and saw the anger there, scorching. He meant it. He would protect me, no matter what.

"Here. Crisps aren't as good as ice cream, but it's a substitute." I laughed weakly, and took a handful of crisps from the packet he was offering.

_No matter what._

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris wanted me to tell Darren of the abuse I'd been receiving on Twitter. I'd blatantly refused, and he threatened me that if I didn't tell Darren, he did. Chris stormed off, leaving me standing there with no choice. I had to tell him.

And I did, after we'd filmed the last scene of the first episode.

The episode ends with Blaine and Kurt having a conversation what to do about me. Kurt is ranting on about how I'm 'rude' and 'crude' and 'inappropriate behaviour'. Blaine suggests they confront her, and Kurt agrees.

Cue ending credits, and the catchy theme tune.

I found Chris with Darren, Chris swigging from a water bottle, his shirt soaked in sweat. It was a hot day, and as soon as people could, they changed into the least amount of clothes they could.

"Uh, Chris? I need to talk to Darren, could you leave?"

He walked away, shooting me a meaningful look over his shoulder.

It had been a while since I had spoken to him, excluding filming.

The atmosphere was a little tense. "Darren... I need to tell you something. People saw our, um, 'friend coffee date' and they've published a magazine article on it."  
Darren's shoulders slacked. He groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands. "What happened?"  
"Not much since then," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "Just that the magazine interviewed Mia Swiers, your ex girlfriend?"

He nodded, and I felt a pang.

"There's more." I took a deep breath. _Where are you, confident Anya? I need you now, _I summoned all the confidence I had, and told him. "People have been saying things about me. On Twitter." I handed him my phone, and he looked confused. His expression cleared as he scrolled through the comments, even his lip quivering in rage. I could tell he was mad.

"I'll tell them." Was all he said, before he took out his phone, typed a few sentences and pressed **Post**.

"Darren?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." I smiled at him.

"I think we need to hang out more," he grinned at me. I felt my face flush. "S-Sure."

He excused himself, and walked off to talk to Kevin.

Chris strolled over with a smirk on his face. "So...?"  
"So I told him, he said he'd do something about it, and..." My cheeks burned again. "And he said 'we should hang out more.'"

I slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up!"

"Is _the _Miss Anya Hoods blushing? Did I get that right?" He taunted me.

"We're... Friends, I guess." It felt good saying the word, and meaning it. For once.

"_Sure. _'Friends.'" Chris waggled his eyebrows at me.

I bit my cheek to stop laughing.

For a long time, I actually felt happy and comfortable with my life.

**A/N: N'awh. **** I couldn't resist having a bit of angst in there, and balancing it out with fluff.**

**But this story wouldn't be **_**nearly **_**as interesting if everything was happiness and rainbows... Prepare for some drama in future chapters!**


	10. Pushed over the edge?

**Chapter 9: Pushed over the edge?**

Filming was tough. I woke up early, got to bed late. I was beginning to feel tired, small things like yawning on set. Chris noticed, and for the next week, _ordered _me to go to bed early. I was grumpy about it, but it made a difference. I felt rejuvenated.

I didn't know where I stood with Darren.

He was amazing, funny, and sweet, a great friend, but I found myself on times wanting more.

I didn't get to see him as much, now spending extra time recording my voice. The first time, I was shaking. But I tried my best to hide it. As the song went on, I got more into it, and found myself even dancing along.

At the end, there was applause and I couldn't stop beaming like an idiot.

"Well, Anya! Who knew you had such a big voice?" Amber asked, as she came over to give me a hug. "Stop worrying, you were _amazing._"

After congratulations, I managed to sneak out of the recording booth, outside, where _he _was waiting. _Damn him and looking perfect all the time. _I knew I looked like a mess, my hair ruffled into various places, wearing nothing but a white vest and jogging bottoms.

"Hey."  
He smiled. "I have something to show you." He offered his hand, and, surprised, I took it.

He led me outside, where the sun was setting, and the sky was tinged a fiery orange. It was beautiful.

"Look at this." Nervously, I took his phone.

People on Darren's Twitter account where re-tweeting his post and commenting.

**I agree! No person should be treated like that!  
She's beautiful. **

**Darren's right, you guys should stop this.**

**Friends or not, I honestly don't care if Anya is his girlfriend. Like any true Gleek; I'd be happy that Darren was happy. **

At my name mentioned, my eyes flicked up to Darren's original post.

_Addressed to those who have been sending hate to Anya,_

_You have no right to call her names, and send her stuff like this. Not that it's any of your business, but Anya is __**not **__my girlfriend. She's my friend. I don't think you realise how much your comments hurt her, and I don't want to see her in that state. She's beautiful, not ugly, or fat._

_If any messes with Anya, they mess with __**me. **_

_**-Darren **_

His post was so sweet, I felt tears pricking my eyes. I quickly wiped them away, not wanting him to see me in a _worse _state than I already was.

"That's so sweet," was all I managed to say, before I hugged him. I felt safe in his arms, and my head buried deep into his shoulder.

He rested his chin on top of my head, which made me grip tighter onto him. I knew he saw us just as 'friends' but I didn't feel that way. And I didn't want to let go.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris texted me quickly. _Any updates? _**–Chris**

_Nosey. :P _** –Anya**

_I'm serious, I'm __**dying **__with nothing to do here. I __**need **__information! ____–_**Chris**

_Calm down, I'll tell you. Meet me outside of the recording studio in five. _**–Anya**

My phone buzzed with one word. _OK._

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Chris was waiting impatiently, tapping his foot by the time I got out. "I got held up!" I protested, feeling slightly guilty at his unimpressed look.

"_Sure... _You were going to tell me what happened?"

"Darren found me in the recording studio, said he had something to show me- he showed me the positive comments people had been tweeting. It actually improved my mood, a lot."

"And?" He gestured wildly.

"Nothing else! Well, we hugged, but-"

"-_But _you're still madly in love with him?" He supplied me.

"Not _in love_-" I began weakly.

"Oh, shush. I know what you're like."

"Whatever."

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I got to my room, glowing with happiness.

But my mood drastically changed when I took out my phone, and thumbed through.

There was a new tweet on my wall, by an 'anonymous user.'

**You think you're so clever, don't you? Trying to steal Darren away from us. Well your stupid little trick won't work. Darren's smart, he'll work it out that you're nothing but a little boyfriend snatcher- Mia Swiers is **_**far **_**better than you. Her and Darren were meant to be together.**

**Meanwhile, you'll remain the sad, lonely person you are, and die alone.**

**Go drink bleach. **

**-anonymous user**

You're nothing. Nothing. **Nothing. **

I rushed to the bathroom, and violently threw up in the toilet, retching until my throat burned and my stomach felt achingly empty.

_I told you. Being skinny is the only way you'll be happy, _the voice said. I nodded. It was right.

I had to be skinny, no matter what.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I woke up, cramped up on my sofa. My bones ached. Every part of my body was complaining, but I had to get up. I checked the time on my alarm clock by my bed- _9:05._

_Oh God. _

I was late, I was late, I was _late. _Ryan would kill me. If I survived that long. I wanted to curl up into a ball and _die. _

I threw on some clothes, brushed my teeth and ran out.

Jogging to the studios was hard. And not fun. Today of all days had to be a chilly morning, with frost lain out over the landscape. It didn't make sense. It was _July, _for crying out loud.

I reached Paramount studios, breathing heavily. I wasn't a runner.

The receptionist at the desk narrowed her eyes. "Name?"

"Anya. Anya Grant."

"Right this way, _Miss Grant,_" she said sweetly, signalling for me to follow her. I realised I looked awful. I even had my baggy, lifeless grey top on. The one I never wore, unless I was planning to live deep underground.

Jenna was waiting for me anxiously at the door of the Glee set. "Where have you _been, _Anya?!" She hissed at me. "It's been _two hours_!"

"I-I'm sorry, I woke up late, and-"

"No time." Jenna bundled me through the door. "Thanks," she nodded at the receptionist, who pursed her lips and gave me a death stare.

"Gee's waiting for you inside the trailer. She has been, for the past two hours."

I felt guilt twist in my stomach. "Sorry," I apologised weakly.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

_-Filming Perspective- _

So they think they can stop me, Hummel and Anderson. I can't change Hummel, but I think I can _just _about manipulate Anderson. Bend him to my will. He's gay, (or at least he _thinks _he is) he's most likely never been with a woman before. Well I'll give him something to gawp at.

I loved attention. I love feeling people's eyes on me, as I strut down the hallway.

The tight, one piece suit exposing my cleavage I bought in Vegas. Las, Vegas, to be precise. My Daddy's money got me places. And he would do _anything _for his sweet, innocent daughter. The suit was an impulse. But I used it when I wanted to put on a show.

"Hey, Anderson!" I call. "Like what you see?" I smirk at him, and he looks helpless again, trapped as I corner him into the lockers.

"This is how it's going to go down. Either you and your little chipmunk boyfriend give up your childish 'plan' to get me expelled, or I'll be forced to do something."

He gains some composure, and says in a wobbly voice, "Y-You can't do anything. Kurt and I _will _get you expelled. No matter what."

I pout. "How sweet. You two are an _adorable _couple. Shame if someone split you up."

"What can _you _do," he seethes.

"This." I grab him and pull him forward forcefully. My lips crash onto his, before he can register what's going on. He struggles a bit, and relaxes eventually.

I pull away when I need breath. "See?" He looks flushed, red. "I'm the one who can make you lose breath. _Hummel _can't. How about this? Ditch the pale pansy, and come over to my side for a while." I wink. "It'll be fun."

"No thanks, Hayley," he spits at me. "I'd rather be with a person who has a heart, than a soulless, manipulative little bitch." His words hit me hard, and while I blink with confusion, he strides off.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"_Cut_! Great work, everyone. Take five."

The camera man's voice brings me back to reality. I'm in LA, not Ohio. I'm a twenty six year old woman, not a seventeen year old cheerleader. _Focus, Anya_! I was getting too lost in the _Glee World _for my liking, too comfortable. I fell into character easily.

"Wow, Anya." Darren ran a hand through his hair. "I-I don't know what to say. To be honest, you're kind of terrifying and intimidating when you're playing Hayley."

"What can I say?" I grinned. "Hayley's like the dark side of me I've been _begging _to get out, and this is just an opportunity."

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "I like this side of you."

_Wait, was he- no! He wasn't __**flirting **__with me, was he?_

I leant in closer, so he could smell my perfume. "Let's just say she's the _bad _Anya."

His mouth twitched, like he was about to break into a smile, but he managed to keep a straight face. "I'd love to _meet _her, some time. Like a date."

"I'll have to think about it." I flirted right back.

Mark came up to us, about to open his mouth, when he saw the scene. The electricity was heavy. "Oh, I'll just-um, come back later." He stumbled on some props.

"What happened to you, Darren?"

"What'd you mean?" He cocked his head to the side, intruiged.

"When I first met you; you were shy and could barely construct a sentence."

"I think you're forgetting the part where it was _after _the party. We ended up in the same bed together."

I blushed, and dropped my head down. "Yeah, well- blame it on Ryan! He had to throw the party! I don't normally drink as much as I did that night."

He laughed. "It's fine. At least I didn't end up with Chord." When he saw my smile, he said solemnly, "No, it's true. It's happened before."

"Uh...Wow..." I stopped to think what to say next. It was tough to know what to say after that.

Darren was grinning his head off. "I'm joking."

"Oh, thank _God_!" It came out as an exhale.

"Gay in Glee, straight in real life."

"But _thankfully _available, right?" I said flirtatiously. It was his turn to look like a stuck mule. But an adorably dorky stuck mule. _God, there I go again..._

I was about to say I was joking, and apologise, when I suddenly felt dizzy. An unexpected jolt went through my body, and I slammed back, into the wall. The room started spinning, and my head was aching. I hadn't eaten since I threw up, yesterday. I didn't want to eat. Every time I _glanced _at food I felt sick. The voice kept reminding me of the consequences. So I pushed it away.

"Anya?" Darren's voice lost all jokiness, all teasing. "Anya!" His voice became a faint echo, with the ringing in my head. I fall down, plunging into the darkness.

The last thing I remember seeing was Darren and Chris's face staring down at me with anxiety.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I woke up in a stuffy room. Instantly, my throat restricted and I couldn't breathe. I was silently panicking, flapping my arms when Darren rushed to my side.

"It's OK, It's OK. _Breathe._" He massaged the tight knots in my shoulders, and my breathing became easier.

"Where am I?" I asked, as soon as I calmed down.

"You're in the studio. One of the prop rooms." I peeled off the fleece blanket on top of me that was getting increasingly hot.

"I passed out, didn't I?"

"Yeah." His eyebrows furrowed and I could tell he wanted to ask me something, but he was holding back.  
"The prop room was Chris's idea. He had a theory you didn't like hospitals?"

"Well, he's right." I stood up, brushing clinging dust off me. "I have to get back, they'll be waiting."

"Oh, _no._" Darren blocked my way to the door. "There's _no _way you're going back, after your fainting episode." He paused, and continued in a gentler tone. "We know what's happening, Anya. You're getting thinner." He touched my shoulder, and I flinched. "Please, don't do this to yourself."

"Do what?" I knew exactly what he was talking about.  
"Starve yourself. Make yourself throw up; whatever you do. Don't."

"I'm sorry Darren," I apologised bleakly. "I have to. I'm naturally stunning like Naya, or skinny like Heather. It's the only way."

"You don't get it, do you?" He laughed weakly. "You're beautiful, just how you are."

_Don't listen to him! _The voice warned me. _He lies! _

"You don't need to starve yourself to be skinny, or put makeup to hide yourself away. You're perfect, the way you are. It's what I've always known, since day one, the day I met, Anya."

The voice was wailing in my head, but I blocked it out. I stared at a delusional Darren. But I wanted to believe it.

We both did what we had been waiting for, wanting.

He leant forward and captured my lips in a hot, searing kiss. Making his mark on my damaged body.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I was forced to stay away from filming, taking a couple of weeks to _recover. _I hated the word. It made me sound like I had a disease, surely not eating wasn't a disease?

There was nothing wrong with me. I wanted to be skinnier. Most people wanted to, right?  
Darren insisted to 'keep watch' over me. We weren't exactly dating, but we were in close company, and it didn't prevent him from kissing me. We both agreed it would be so much easier if we _didn't _call it dating.

"We're just... enjoying each other's company, I guess," I grinned at him.

From then on, we used that excuse. Chris visited me; there was no hiding from him. He could see through everything. Our feeble attempt at pretending we _didn't _do all that 'gooey stuff.'

All he said was, "So. It's happened." And mysteriously disappeared.

"He's such a drama queen," I commented, out of earshot.

There were bad days, when I woke up, from dark dreams, gasping for air. There were days I'd look at food, and instantly feel sick. There were days when Darren had to _force _feed me.

And, then there was the voice.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I hoped I wasn't insane. But the voice sometimes made me question my sanity. The things it said to me; made my flesh creep. It sent chills directly down my spine.

I was always dreading hearing it.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I'd spent a week from filming, anxious for the next week to go by quickly, so I could get back to work.

I was drifting off to sleep, on a Thursday night, when hearing Darren and Chris's voice alerted me. I lay there, concentrating on keeping my breathing quiet, eavesdropping on their conversation. Through a slit of light from my door, I could see the outline of one of them.

It was Darren who spoke first. "I'm worried about her, Chris. She's eating less and less. It's becoming more difficult to get her to eat. I don't know what to do."

"It's Anya." Chris's voice said, calm. "She knows how to look after herself."

"But what if she doesn't?!" I heard his voice, frustrated and I felt his pain. We were so close now, I could feel what he felt. "I've seen friends like this, in the same position she is. They didn't recover, they-" his voice broke.

"But she's different. She'll listen to you, Darren, she loves you."

"I-I love her too. But what if she's pushed over the edge?"

"C'mon. You need to get bed. I'll see you in the morning." I saw a glimpse of Chris's face, his eyes avoiding Darren's, ignoring his question.

There were mutterings goodbye, and my door creaked open.

"Darren?" I pretended to murmur sleepily.

"No, shush, go back to sleep!" He whispered loudly.

"You're such a bad actor."

I felt his hesitation, and realised why. "You can sleep in my bed, tonight, if you want."

He _had _set up camp on the hotel room's sofa, but I figured this was much more comfortable than a moist, sagging sofa with cold cushions.

"A-are you sure?"

"I'm fine." My voice came out muffled, from my face planted in my pillow. "As long as you don't attack me in my sleep, or you sleepwalk."

The bed sunk slightly under his weight. I tensed up a little when he lay down, near me, but I forced myself to relax. This was _Darren _a very good friend/almost boyfriend, not some creepy man that wandered into my bed by mistake.

I fell asleep easier, that night. But being with Darren didn't make the nightmares stop.

**A/N: I apologise to anyone who was waiting for that chapter. Thanks to my new follower; DramaDork2490. I was hoping for a favourite, or a follow, maybe a review, so, great, thanks! You made my day. **** I left you on a cliffhanger, again! Is it again? I can't remember. Anyway, I'm evil, bla, bla. **

**It's getting a bit darker as it goes on, so just a warning there. **

**There may be mentions of self-harm and bulimia. **


	11. Scarred, inside and out

**Chapter 11: Scarred inside, and out **

Darren was my rock. I could lean on him when I needed to, cry and he would be there, by my side, holding me through it. But the Twitter comments were pushing me to breaking point. Not even Darren could stop me.

One day, I couldn't take it anymore, and I took it out on myself. I was crouching there, in my bathroom, staring at the deep gashes in my arm. Blood was slowly seeping out of the wound. I did it. I felt...relieved. All my frustration and anger was gone.

I found a new way to feel good. I didn't starve myself, instead; I cut myself.

And it felt good.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I needed a way to hide my new wounds, though. Darren couldn't know about this. No-one could. I knew he'd try and stop me, he'd seek help. So I wore long-sleeved, baggy shirts.

Ryan announced he was 'ever-so-kindly' allowing me to stay off a couple of more weeks. No-one disagreed. I was falling apart, crumbling easily. Ryan discreetly said he thought I was a little 'unstable' to be in work anymore. I didn't care. I needed to be away from people, from _everyone. _But Darren I couldn't stay away from. After his week off work was up, he'd been forced to go back to filming. But every day, he returned back, after a long day. I pretended to be happy to see him, with smiles and kisses, but I didn't feel anything, anymore. It was like a feeling of emptiness had devoured me wholly.

Soon, I didn't talk at all. They were all worried, I knew. Darren brought Chris over, in a failed attempt to communicate with me. But even Chris's sarcastic comments and funny quips couldn't get me to talk. I was a mute.

It was hard on Darren, too. Our new relationship was so fragile. I overheard him talking to Chris. He was a mess. "I-I feel so useless, Chris. She won't talk to anybody. It was those sick people who tortured her on the Internet, it broke her. I want to help her-b-but I don't think I can." He dissolved into tears.

I just unblinkingly stared at the scene. All I could think, was: _Now he's a mess, like me. _

Every time I took out my pain, the wounds got deeper, and deeper. Pain was good. It gave me a clear head.

Not that I had anything to worry about.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

He was there; standing by the door. I could always tell when he was there. There was that faint throb of my heart, it reminded me I was still alive, not a dead body walking.

He approached cautiously. "A-Anya? Can you hear me?"

I gave a stiff nod, but I didn't look at him.

"Anya, please. _Talk to me._"

I remained sitting, staring into space.

"Please?" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I brought people, they can help."

I couldn't ignore him much longer, I was curious now. I cocked my head at him, slightly.

But he didn't need to give an introduction. A woman with short, bouncing red hair, styled into perfect curls, strode into the room. She wore a crisp, clean ruffled shirt and pencil skirt combination, smelling of a scent that made my head spin.

"Hi, Anya? I'm Sophie," she said in a soft voice, like she was approaching a wild animal, and she didn't want to scare it away.

"I've heard you've been having- _problems. _Can you tell me about it?" Silence. She crouched down, with big, brown eyes and a gentle tone, asked, "Talking will help. You can't stay a mute, all your life, Anya."

The last sentence drove a stab through my heart. Suddenly, I hated her with such ferocity, I wanted her out, I wanted her dead, I wanted-

"Sophie? Thank you for trying, but I think you should leave. You're upsetting her." Darren's voice interrupted my thoughts, but suddenly cleared the fogginess from my head.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Here's my card if you have any issues you want to talk about." With a perfectly manicured hand, she handed Darren her card.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Sophie trotted out on high heels.

"Why did you bring her?" I murmured.

He turned to me, surprised at my sudden question. He swallowed. "She's here- to make you better."

"I don't need help," I said in a flat tone. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to hide from me. I know what you're doing." With those final words, and a fleeting touch of his hand on me, he was gone.

_I know what you're doing. _

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Darren's POV (A/N: I know, first change ever! I'm actually excited... I have no life.)**

Life was... quieter. Besides the constant panic from filming, and autographs, and booking tours for ecstatic Glee fans, my life had definitely changed.

I felt like I had to babysit Anya, constantly. I loved her I'd do anything for her, but now she just seems... empty. Broken. I can't do anything, I'm helpless. All I can do is bear the pain of watching her, day after day, just sitting there.

I thought Sophie would help- she'd be a friend to talk to, ever since Jenna no longer visited Anya. I guess, seeing her in that state was too much to bear. I knew how much it hurt.

But Sophie just made her worse. I even got the sense she was angry.

First the Twitter abuse, now _this. _I knew things got out of hand, but I didn't think people could be that, that _cruel. _After I saw what people had posted on her wall, I felt sick. I wanted to punch them in the face, I wanted to hurt them like they hurt her.

And then there were the scars. She could pretend like they weren't there, but I saw everything. The long-sleeved shirts she wore, how much quieter she got. I saw the pain in her eyes, and I wanted to fix it. I wanted to stop all the sadness she was experiencing, but I wasn't a wizard. Suddenly, I wished I _was _Harry Potter. It was the strangest thought I'd had, since Anya spiralled out of control. I almost laughed. I always felt guilty when I laughed, like I was being happy without Anya.

I didn't realise how much of a part she had become of me, how comfortable I was with her. I could take out my guitar, start strumming on the strings, and she'd sit there, with this fascination in her brown eyes, her head slightly tilted. I remembered one day, when the sun was setting, and her hotel room's light was fading, and I looked across to where Anya was sitting, scribbling down in a notebook. She told me she loved to write songs.

Her hair fell forward, covering a strip of her face, and I remember just _staring _at her, like a pervert, because she never looked more beautiful.

God, it hurt. It hurt more than I could explain, seeing Anya this helpless.

The worst part was I knew I couldn't do anything about it.

**A/N: Well this was a lovely, depressing chapter. Just great when I'm having a tough time, without sugar (Lent) and waiting for Sherlock Series 3... Which will most likely be released in **_**months' **_**time. **


	12. Signs of improvement

**Chapter 12: Signs of improvement **

Sophie came again. This time with more smiles and fake cheer. Her business-like attitude had gone, melted with everything else- the hair stiff with hairspray, the pencil skirt- instead, she chose to wear a crumpled, baggy old stained shirt and a pair of faded jeans. I knew what she was doing. _You can't let her fool you, _the voice whispered. _She's trying to get to you. _I stiffened. I wouldn't let her get to me, I wouldn't! They'd take away the happiness I got from looking in the mirror, and seeing a slim stomach.

Sophie still had the same soft, cautious voice like before. I tried to block her voice out, stare into the distance. It had worked before.

"Hey, Anya?"

She was treating me like a friend. "You're not a friend," I stated. "Don't act like you are."

"Anya." He came into view, and crouched down beside me. "Do this for me." He gave me his best puppy dog look.

I pursed my lips, and sighed. "I'll try," I croaked. I tried my best to maintain silence, but I gave in this time. The voice did everything to persuade me- it begged me, pleaded me, even screamed at me. I just sat there with a face of stone.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I was sitting through another long, endless session of Sophie's. They seemed to drag on forever. I was anxious to get back, I hadn't cut all day, and my wrists were itching to be cut. I needed relief.

"So..." she said softly. "What's happened recently?"

She visited every few days or so, and always started with the same question.

"Nothing," I said blankly, staring past her. I couldn't see him, but I knew Darren was waiting there, edgily. "I'm officially no longer a member of Glee. They killed off my character, came up with the idea my character suffered from a past of 'bullying' and so stricken with grief, she ran away. Stupid."

"I hear the viewers are outraged. Apparently they were looking forward to a new member on the scene."

I let out a short laugh. It hurt. I hadn't used my jaw in that way for a long, long time. "No-one cared, in the first place. They never do." I tugged at the ends of my sleeves, fidgeting. My mind was only on one thing, which, once I started thinking about, I couldn't stop.

"Have you been in contact with your family recently?"

"I haven't seen them in years. They never bothered to keep in contact with their only child. They couldn't wait to be shot of me, for eighteen years."

There was a silence. Sophie realised she'd ventured in too far, and in doing so, came to a dead end.

"How are you feeling?"

Typical _psychiatrist _question. I hated that word. It made me sound like I needed help so desperately, they got me a _psychiatrist. _A person specialised in helping with _mental illness. _

I wasn't mental. I just... needed a way to relieve all the stress.

As usual, we always ended up at this question. And as usual, I answered the same way. "Fine."

But what Sophie asked me next completely veered me off track, totally unexpected. "But do you know how Darren's feeling?"

I didn't know what to say. "He's-" I decided to be honest- "A wreck. He can't stop worrying about me, won't leave me side, constantly looking out for me. On several occasions, Ryan's had to come out to my hotel room, to _force _Darren to come to work. He has a job to do." Sophie tilts her head sympathetically, looking at me with sad eyes. "A job which is to entertain young girls," I added, bitterly. "He's not interested in me. He's just kidding himself he loves me. Who would love me?" I glanced at the mirror in my bedroom, and get a glimpse of a girl with matted hair, wild eyes and pale skin.

"Well, Anya." Sophie settled down on the chair that was facing me. "For a person who I'd class as intelligent, you don't always say the most intelligent things." She leaned in, beckoning me closer. "Between you and me, I'm only a psychiatrist for the job. What I'm _really _best at, is seeing what's in people's hearts. And I can see what's in Darren's heart." She straightened the notebook she used to scribble down slanted notes, on her lap. "He loves you. It'll take time to realise, but hopefully one day you will." She stood up to leave, brushing dust on her perfectly ironed skirt. "What you're putting him through is hell." I gaped at her. This wasn't what psychiatrists were meant to say. But she continued in a cool tone, "And he sure as hell doesn't deserve this. But he has a good heart, which he's devoted to you. He'll stay by you, for as long as it takes. I hope you realise what you're being, is selfish." I take a minute to gaze into her ice cold, blue eyes, coated thick with mascara. There's no kindness there. Only the hardship she's been through. "Have a good day, Anya."

She leaves me frozen, in the middle of my bedroom, for the first time, unable what to do or say.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The minute Sophie leaves, Darren comes scampering to my side, reminding me like an eager puppy with the big amber eyes and hopeful smile. Like a puppy that wants a treat, with its furry tail wagging.

"How'd it go?"  
"Bearable." I purse my lips. When his eyes light up, I stop myself from saying anything that will crush his hope. For once, I want to let him be happy.

_What you're putting him through, is hell. And he sure as hell doesn't deserve this. I hope you realise you're being selfish. _

"Do you..." I hesitated. "Want to watch a movie?"

"Sure. What do you want to watch?" He led me through to the living room, in pristine condition, every corner of it scrubbed down, gleaming.

"We've got Disney movies, if you want?" He gestured at the towering stack of Disney movies by the plasma screen in my room.

Once again, I was fighting to block out the voice. This time, it wasn't begging, pleading- instead, it was whispering words to me, words that sent internal blows straight to my gut.

Darren sensed my hesitation, so he grabbed one out of the unstable pile. "Beauty and the Beast," he announced. "Alright with that?"

It was the first time in a while, I felt _something. _A vague fleeting, pang in my heart. It was a while since I'd been this close to him. And I could tell he was craving for something, just a touch from me. For a minute, I felt sympathy. He'd had to last this long without anything.

_No. You can't think that. You can't feel anything, for anyone. _The voice was right. If I got attached to anything, I'd have more to lose. It was easier to distance myself from people.

I dropped into silence. Darren faltered, unsure what to do. I gave him a nod.

I sank onto the sofa, feeling like a shy girl next to her crush. Darren slotted in the DVD, and sat down next to me, before he realised, and sprang away. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot!"  
"It's...Fine, really. You can sit there."

He settled back down, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see him reminding himself not to do the things he used to, when he we were officially 'boyfriend and girlfriend'- like draping an arm around me.

I could tell it killed him. And in a way, it killed me too.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

I found out I didn't like 'Beauty and the Beast'. At least the first half. How everybody managed to be so happy, and joyful. It just irritated me, watching the cartoon smiles on their animated faces, and their ability to burst into song. But I actually got interested in the movie, by the time we reached Beast. I'd heard the story, the fairytale. A beautiful daughter of a merchant, is almost _sold _to a Beast, as punishment for her father trespassing its castle. I could never feel sympathy for Belle. But, somehow, I felt sorry for the Beast. All that loneliness and pain. I understood. Near the end, as the Beast's true form is revealed, as a handsome prince, and it all ends in songs and happy ever afters, I couldn't help thinking- _the Beast is me. _I'm the person who feels despair, and loneliness. I didn't care that in the end, Belle married the handsome prince who had been transformed into a Beast, by an evil fairy, what I cared about was the _suffering _the Beast went through, to get what he finally deserved. Happiness.

As the credits rolled down, I took a glance at Darren's face, flickering with light. It seemed ridiculous to think this, but... He was my Belle. The one came to save me from myself. But I couldn't blame my situation on a curse. I blamed it on myself.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"That was-" He cleared his throat. "Interesting."

I touched his arm, a gesture which surprised him. "It was good. I haven't really watched through a whole Disney movie, if I'm honest."

His eyes widened. "_Are you serious?! _You've got to be joking me. I _loved _Disney when I grew up. You have to watch the rest." As I started to protest, he put a finger on my lip. My whole body burned with his touch. "I don't want to hear it. Right here, right now, we're working our way through _all _these movies."

It was 3:00pm. I didn't argue with him. Suddenly, calculating how long it would take, and the time we finished, didn't matter anymore. I just wanted to be near someone.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"Hey."

His voice brought me back to consciousness. My dreams were always the same.

Darkness.

Silence.

Then.

A scream.

So high pitched and full of pain it broke my heart. But I never could work out who it was.

"Darren?" I murmured sleepily. I was suddenly aware of the fact my head was leaning on his shoulder. I sprang away, like I'd been scalded.

"Anya, please-"

"Stay away from me." My voice quivered. "I don't want to be near you, or anyone."

When he reached out an arm, I slapped it away. He stared at me in shock. This was the first time I'd ever hurt him.

I stormed out of the room, tears threatening to spill.

I couldn't face him.

**A/N: I don't know if you're thinking what I'm thinking, but when I wrote that scene with Sophie and Anya, it kind of came as a shock. **

**Like Sophie cared about Darren... **_**Twist. **_**Keep reading! **


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